In the Wreckage
by lil.redd.riding.hood
Summary: Set before, during, and after the events of Bane's capture of Gotham, we examine two lives that had danced dangerously close for years... Whose paths had been parallel, working towards the same eventual goal, but never realizing the significance of it. The struggle of a man who fought to keep himself human while a woman struggled to simply remain alive. (Bane x OC equals Tension!)
1. Prologue

_The day's events were not going in my favor. Three days past was the last time I had food in my belly and it was really starting to hurt. "Bèiyòng yìngbì ma?" I croaked through cracked lips, touching a passerby on his arm. He was tall and stricken with a hard set of eyes that almost hurt to rest under. He scanned me quickly, assessing that the child before him, in ragged clothing in the snow, was something to be abhorred. I was the lowest of the low, even to other beggars. But I couldn't pass him up when he'd stopped, so I tried a different tactic to see if he would bite. "Chōuchū yìngbì, xiānshēng? Zài xǔduō tiān, wǒ méi chīguò." He turned away from my plea apathetically, and left me in the cold of the winter to starve._

_For another two days I begged like this, clinging to the hope that someone would take pity on me and empty the contents of their pocket to give me food. Just a slice of bread, or a raw potato would keep me strong enough to continue. Thrice more I saw the same man pass me by and thrice more I tried to get his help. He brushed me off efficiently each time and every other person followed suit. No one had the heart in this dying town to help its poorest, so on the night of the fifth day I abandoned the hard ground for the alternative of begging. I felt terrible each time I had to resort to stealing, but I would not allow myself to die of starvation in an effort to respect the law._

_It was a long walk full of frozen digits and scraped knees, but I finally managed to find the place I was looking for. The rundown bakery I stood in front of now was barely anything more than a shack with an oven. It was in such a state of disrepair that it leaned heavily against its neighbor with pregnant weight, threatening both buildings with their eventual collapse. The weather-worn boards that lined the frame were groaning with each gust of wind, whistling when the air passed through the cracks. It was as if this place was alive, inhaling the frigid storm and exhaling the intoxicating scent of warm bread._

_My stomach surged with painful hunger in response to the smells, spurring me into action. No lights were on inside and no sounds came when I slipped around back. Like I had done so often before, I found the loose board to peel away and slid in undetected. The dimness of the small housing barely impeded my eyes as I felt around for where the food was stored. After a moment of adjusting and gaining my bearings, I saw the prize I desired. Starvation sent fiery pain into my gut, but the excitement I felt outweighed the pain. I scooped up a couple loaves and snuck back out without so much as a squeak, swelling with pride that I'd have food for almost four days!_

_My breath stopped short when I turned my attention from victory to the small courtyard of my escape. All the confidence and joy of success crashed down around me as I came face to face with the silhouette of a man. He was still like frozen water, watching me with discernable eyes. "Qǐng bùyào gàosu rènhé rén," I stuttered, afraid. The hairs on the back of my neck raised with acute awareness as I tried to see who it was in front of me. He took a step forward and my heart skipped a beat. "Wǒ xūyào chī!" It was a pathetic cry, the garbled Cantonese dying in my throat._

_He lessened the space between us and picked me up by the scruff. "Put it back," he whispered, tossing me towards the crawlspace I'd come out of. His eyes said that there would be no denying him, so I caved and quickly did as I was bid. When I came back out he was gone. Like an apparition, he had just vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared. I felt like I could just die right then, the fatigue of malnutrition dragging me to my knees._

_Darkness was abrupt when it shielded me from the world. It wasn't the void of death or the depths of unconsciousness I realized warily. It was a hood! I reached up to pull the fabric away but a pair of hands had already begun to bind my wrists. "No, please!" I screamed, thrashing against the restraints, "I don't want to die!" A sharp pain shot up my arm and then I felt the warmth of sleep crash around me._

_When I stumbled through the groggy feeling of wakefulness, I found myself in a room. The walls were painted black, devoid of any identifiable detail. The ceiling and floor were dark as well, forming a cocoon of pitch where I could not tell if the space around me was never-ending. A single source of light was directly ahead of me, a flickering candle on its last leg. I tried to stand up to observe more of where I was, but I couldn't move for some reason. I tugged at my arms and felt the bite of rope on my skin and heard the groan of metal thereafter. It was then that the knowledge crept in, that I was bound to a chair and gagged. I hadn't noticed the cottony texture on my tongue until the scream swelled in my throat. Fear kicked in, followed by a boiling urgency to pee. How long had I been here? Would I be killed? What did I do?_

_The creak of hinges behind me brought home the phobia that I'd be tortured and then slaughtered. A door closed out of my view and the faint padding of bare feet danced around my peripherals. "Do you know why you're here?" a masculine voice inquired coolly. I shook my head vigorously and the rise and fall of sardonic laughter ensued. "I suppose you wouldn't. You're here because you've displayed an aptitude for discretion and evasion. You're good at hide and seek, if you will. I need those skills of yours to run an errand for me."_

_He let the quiet pour back into my ears, remaining motionless in the farthest reaches of my vision. Finally, after a long sigh escaped him he continued. "Take a message to the leader of my brothers and tell no one of this, and you will walk away with life and your belly full for a month. Refuse me now, or tell someone else the message..." His silence was enough for my seven year old brain to grasp. I would be hunted like a rabbit and strung up by my intestines. He stepped into the faint firelight and to my horror I recognized him._

_The man who I had seen multiple times this last week stared back at me, expecting a reply. I was overcome with shock, but I nodded slowly and he grinned. "Good. Now, here is what you will say..." The knowledge was outlined clearly for me and then the destination was revealed. Only after he'd cut the gag away and I repeated his instructions perfectly was I allowed to leave and do my part. They gave me enough food to not pass out on my journey, and then let me go to do my job._

_I was of no importance even by commoner standards; an ankle biter in a sea of dejected men who could barely scrape enough up for themselves. So, why had this man picked me out of everyone else possible? Why the child coated in dirt and rags? I had a three day walk to mull over the plausible answers, but none came. By the final day I had eaten all my food and felt energetic, the faint prickings of joy starting to heat my bones. Whatever lay at the end of my mission couldn't come close to the ache of food deprivation I'd been suffering under before._

_The sloping roof of a dojo came into view by midday, its sleek maroon and black shingles glinting dangerously. I was too enraptured by the feeling of fullness to let the building's exterior dissuade me. When I stood in the shadow of the structure a lanky old man came out and snapped questions at me in different languages. He grew ever more frustrated until the thrum of his Cantonese got my attention. "What do you want, boy!? This is no place for children!"_

_I wanted to yell at him right there, tell him that I was a girl and he was being mean, but I remembered my life was on the line. That was an easy thing for me to understand, even as young as I was. "I am sent by the fang that protects the head," was my retort, which effectively shut up the snide man's tirade. His eyes widened before being smashed by the meeting of his bushy brows. The gesture he made with his hands was brusque, but I loped up the steps and into the mouth of the lion's den._

_A man paced in the far reaches of the room ahead of me, head angled down deep in thought. His brow was furrowed in the same way as the assistant beside me, casting dark lines over the cheekbones and wiry facial hair that made up the stoic features of his face. A heavy aroma of herbal leaves wafted in from an open paneled door, and the faint thirst in my throat became a sense I was aware of. When the greeter and I stepped past the threshold, the mustachioed youth looked up at us with strange intrigue, barely passing a glance over the tray of tea-cups and hot water that I was eying with immature selfishness. "This brat says he brings word from Ubu," the older cretin spat, clearly unconvinced of my validity (and still painfully ignorant of my gender). A look passed between them before the younger one turned to me._

"_Where did you come by that name and how did you find this place?" he crooned derisively, looking at me with an expression that gave away nothing. His unassuming face was but a lie when I looked into his eyes, seeing only the coldness of the countless lives he had taken._

_I answered firmly regardless of the dread that clawed my insides and bellowed at the top of its lungs for me to flee. "Ubu found me pilfering some goods from a bakery," I started, "and told me to bring you a message. I didn't have a choice." I would not divulge anymore until the impatient listener to my left departed. My kidnapper had made it vividly clear that no one but _Ra's Al Ghul _was to be told the details._

_The man before me considered what I had said for a long time, splitting his scrutiny between my appearance and my credibility. Too many minutes had passed for the elder to endure and finally he gave a snide huff and scurried away to his own duties. When he left earshot, the whisker-faced man smiled knowingly and spoke. "So, what news is there, child?" he inquired, taking a seat, crossing his legs and placing his hands to his knees._

_And so, I outlined the message in detail, recounting the entire thing as best as my infantile vocabulary would allow. When I had finished, he looked at me for an extended time in silence. I noticed then that the whole building emanated the stillness of abandonment. Who was this guy in front of me? He held an air of authority about him, but the only person I saw was that wily old bat before. "Are you sure that's what they said?" he finally asked. I thought hard for a moment, thinking he was expecting more out of me, and feared that I had indeed forgotten something, but there was no more. I nodded solemnly and he almost threw out a string of curses, but stopped himself short. "This changes the plans drastically." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, defeated by the words I had delivered. "Well then, that just leaves you," he hinted, a spark of morbid delight setting his gaze ablaze. "What do we do with you?"_

_The discomfort I displayed was more than enough to make him grin. He was a predator in this situation, sizing up the suckling pig that was his prey. I reached down deep into the core of my being and dragged out some semblance of courage. "I was told there would be food for me so long as I told his words to you," I explained squeamishly, "I won't say anything to anyone about this, I just want to go, far away from here." My palms were sticky with the cold sweat of fear, and I dreaded his decision._

"_Find a bedroll and make yourself comfortable," he instructed softly, tactfully denying my beggar's plea. After a long pause and I made no move to obey he looked at me quizzically. "No one will harm you so long as you are here, but you have no choice other than to stay. You are too knowledgeable to be set free." He stroked his beard thoughtfully, considering me before pursuing further. "Ubu sent you to me for a reason, but as of yet I cannot tell why. You can stay here, or you can die, child. The decision is yours."_

_Abruptly a knife was in the man's hands, dancing effortlessly between nimble fingers. I would be murdered here in cold blood if I did not concede to stay, but I didn't know if I'd die here regardless! Fear screamed for me to deny his instruction, to run as fast as my feet would carry me, away from the jaws of this great demon. But reason, small as it was, coerced me into bowing to his commands. "Fantastic. Follow me, child. We have much to do. You said it yourself; Gotham is dying and it is time to act."_


	2. Mission Statement

The world of the present flowed into view as I roused from the last cryptic images of my dream-like memories. My subconscious had a sick sense of humor for reliving that string of my past on a day like today. Ra's had sent me as his harbinger of oncoming justice to an American city by the name of Gotham, and today I was on the last few tasks set before me. I had been the most unassuming of our order at the time, and as such it fell to me to begin the work we'd undertaken for hundreds of years. I was on the cusp of adulthood by the American standards, but I had been a woman grown for nearly four years when I was assigned to this legendary city. The facade I wore was well supported by my living situation, and it helped me slip under the United States' radar.

My studio apartment was in the basement of a rundown complex, scantily furnished by the local government. My possessions were limited, though they numbered many more than I'd had while with the League. Material possessions were trivial things with the order. _You are seeking asylum from the Chinese who are purging their population of their women_, I reminded myself, pushing out of bed to face the day. I had assimilated to the role well enough despite the inquiring looks I'd received at first. Questions were asked, but before too long the officials of the country accepted my story and assigned me mediocre housing. By their standards it was the worst living conditions short of homelessness, but after living on the streets of Tibet, this apartment was the most lavish of homes I had outside of the dojo.

_There were not many days like today_, I observed, a keen sense of destiny pulsating through every fiber of my being. On the outside the world seemed no different. A plastic table sat somberly to the left of my front door, the twin bed shoved into the far corner away from it, near the bathroom. Beside the two piles of donated clothing sat a despondent mountain of worn cushions, lazily covered by a black sheet to hold them in the shape of a lumpy couch. Opposite to my bed in the left corner near the door was my backpack which contained any provisions I would need should I somehow be discovered and was forced to escape. All in all my home was mine, but it lacked the luster of the rest of the city.

I turned to the mirror propped against the bathroom wall and looked at myself blankly. Plain gray sweatpants and a black tank top garbed the alien woman in front of me. I looked a mess, but I felt alive with anticipation for the events that faced me. I went to shower and relieve myself, running down the list of things I had to do on this momentous day. Breakfast was essential to the strength of body and mind; I had been taught as much with the League of Shadows. Beyond that I had to keep up appearances to the Department of Immigration by taking the General Equivalency test to get the diploma certifying my mental competency. I had to prove to the United States I was willing to assimilate to this foreign culture, ready to forsake the "shackles" of my homeland. It was _they_ who "persecuted" me, after all.

After those necessities were out of the way, I had to set about the job I was assigned. Enhance the abilities Ra's had already taught me by way of enlisting in more martial arts training. I was initially confused by this part of my mission, but Ra's had illuminated that learning about the American branch of martial arts would enable me to anticipate an enemy should I face them at a later time. Pre-emptive action saved our order from later mistakes and knowledge was infinitely more powerful than simple brute strength. It had been an arduous year of thrice a week training, but today I would pass two exams and prove that my proficiency in Tae-Kwon Do and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was as sound as I boasted. The training the order had put me through gave me an edge above the rest, but after the first two months I still felt the new forms were lacking, so I signed up another fighting style that also nagged for my attention today: To-Shin Do.

Each of the separate forms I forced myself through gave me a different way to attack and defend, preparing me more and more for the events that would unfold in the next handful of decades. For now my colleagues and I were content to let the economic downfall of Gotham do its job. My mission was just reconnaissance and setting in motion a failsafe, in case somehow Ra's Al Ghul failed to bring purity to Gotham like our predecessors. It seemed a daunting and lengthy list, but it kept my body and mind sharp. Only when I had done all of the previous things would I delve into the slums of the city. Only then would I put my hands into the shit and build followers from nothing but the words of my master. As I stepped into the shower, only one thought crossed my mind, the last words my leader had spoken before sending me here:

_"Continue to train, child. Even when you are not with us, fear is all around and it will try to conquer you. When you have done as you are instructed and gleaned all you can from the artists of their country, find a place out of view and build our legacy from the ashes. We have a job to do, and you are the emissary of balance."_

* * *

I arrived back at the dojo late last night. There was barely enough time to sleep before my master called the whole order to a meeting. Instructed to sit, everyone's concealed faces turned from our leader to me and back. Something was deeply amiss here, and I could not tell what. Ra's watched me with an angry air about him, grinding his teeth as if something in his mouth tasted of Death. I explained the situation in Gotham with intimate detail, recounting the way the city tried to persist despite the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne. As I compounded the information, leaving the lesser details for later, our monarch grew ever more displeased.

Finally, when I reached the point where it was simply recalling the training I went through, he raised a hand to stop me. "You bring me all of this information, which contradicts the words that brought you here those years ago. Gotham limps on like a wounded dog, and yet you told me upon your first day here that it was on the verge of collapse. Which is it?" At first I didn't know how to answer him. I was so caught off guard by his chastising gaze that I couldn't find my voice. Then my tactile mind flickered to life and I felt the snares of a trap unfold with his question.

I had to handle this as diplomatically as possible, because maybe if I did, I would make it out of this place alive. "Master, I take full responsibility for all my mistakes and achievements since being here," I started, the staleness of my Cantonese evident in the slowness of my speech, "but I cannot claim responsibility for the words I delivered when I was a child. They were Ubu's words from my mouth, but not from the knowledge I'd collected on my own. If it please you, I will submit to a punishment for the falsehoods of my past, but I cannot claim them for my own."

A pensive expression contorted Ra's Al Ghul's face as he contemplated the severity of my claim. "Very well then. What punishment balances out the profoundness of your mistake? No amount of fear or pain can affect you, much less anyone else in this room. Your sentence must be bred of joy, not fear." He remained in his attentive internal monologue for a long time, forcing me to endure the unwavering eyes of my peers. But, I would not sow underneath their gaze. It was not in me to let the pettiness of pride strike me down.

Ra's had been different ever since his capture and imprisonment two years ago. He'd been cold and unforgiving since then, unwilling to accept failure. Even if it was not the fault of our men, we would find Ra's inventing new and increasingly fatal ways to make an example of the situation. Just this past week I had found out that my longtime companion had been sentenced to standing guard for three days atop the highest point of the dojo, deprived of sleep and food. He was unable to sustain the pose that Ra's instructed him in and fell to his death.

So, while watching and waiting for my own trial, jury, and executioner to make his decision, I prepared myself for the worst. Would I have to do as my allies had, or would he let me off? I couldn't imagine him being lenient anymore, not after what had happened to him. The confinement and torture he went through while he was missing had really changed the man that now stood before me, smiling as a demon might. "You forgot to mention your mishaps with Jim Gordan, child," he pointed out, making my blood run cold. How the _hell_ could he know about that? I was as discreet as I could be with those damned cops. "Oh. You thought I wouldn't find out. You should know better than to think you could fool me."

He slid over to where I knelt and loomed over me as I quailed under him. I hadn't anticipated him catching wind of the scrape with the Gotham police. How could he have known, anyway? "Your _companion,_ the woman who you were to keep with you _at all times_, to maintain the cover we arranged? Oh yes. She sang a pretty tune that had you dancing all over with the law. How much did you tell them, exactly? Did you tell them about the Order? About the plan to rectify the Gotham situation?" Rage boiled over his cool demeanor for the briefest of seconds, "**WHAT** did you tell them?"

Bereft of any resistance, I crumbled beneath the daggers of his eyes. "The woman you assigned me fell into addiction not long after we arrived and got caught trading her "skills" for some experimental hallucinogen from the Falcone runners while in my apartment. The cops took her in and waited until I came home from the American school to question me. I had no choice but to feed them _something_, or else they'd have prevented me from bringing you the information I have now. I only told them that I was in an old order who compiled mass amounts of information and members. When they questioned me for what kind of knowledge, I shrugged and told them that I only knew that I was told to learn..." I paused, focusing hard on the memory, "what the extent of the education system was in their country, and why their students lacked where other first world countries did not."

For nearly fifteen minutes we remained there, letting my words hang terribly around us. Ra's paced and stomped and made multiple attempts to compose himself. When it was blatant to him that he couldn't find his center, he spun on his heel and looked away from me. "We are done with you, child," he concluded, putting his hands together behind his back. "Not only are we done with you, but we will ensure anyone else you seek out for tutelage will forsake you. They will be done with you before you begin, and you will walk this world devoid of any trust, no matter how much you try." He never swayed from his stance as he let the weight of his sentence sink in. "Leave. Leave now before I find something more fitting for your insolence."

Three months have passed since Ra's Al Ghul cast me out of the League of Shadows. Three excruciating months.

I abandoned the dojo without grabbing any of my supplies, and instead of finding steady work as I had hoped, I am stuck in fetters and cuffs with a steely cold bar lodged between my teeth. I was ambushed by an innumerable amount of peons two weeks ago, and was placed in this tiny cell for five days before a man as plump as he was dark approached me, intent on finding out where Ra's kept the Order hidden. He used all manner of torture and persuasion in an attempt to find anything out, but I remained as silent as the stars.

When he grew tired of my quiet, he resorted to threatening me with rape. Four men of differing size and stature were brought in and shown to me, each more imposing and formidable than the last, but each time I kept my tongue. Eventually the threat was rescinded, but not before a courtesy round of beatings from each man. By the time this morning came about I could barely sense the shackles about my wrists and ankles. An enthusiastic throb in most of my ribs and face were the only tendrils of feeling I recognized, and each successive one only built upon the last.

I lay there staring into the darkness for hours, the emptiness a welcoming companion after the torment of the past fortnight. Every now and again the silence would be broken by a droplet of liquid splashing against an unknown surface in the distance. My breathing felt labored, and somehow the taste of blood rose with each exhale, effectively coating my mouth by the time one of my captors came back. He held a syringe in his hand and I felt a cruel sense of irony slide into one of the veins in my arm. Just over ten years ago I was bound and drugged into the same sleep that embraced me now.

Karma was a cruel but balanced mistress. And balance is everything.


	3. Banished

The fingers of dread started to wrap themselves about my throat when I began to rouse from the medicated sleep. I had to calm my mind and steady the ache of my body to assess the situation I was in now. First and foremost was the searing ring that lanced through my stomach and back. A rope, worn with time and weather, wrapped about my waist and supported the full of my weight into a dank pit below. Dangling in a precipice of stone and blackness, I forced myself to look away from the void I was slowly descending into to try and find a way out. Upon further inspection of the sensations around me it became apparent that another rope bound my hands and my feet together.

It was bitterly dark beneath me and getting darker as the source of the rope slackened. I used what little freedom of movement I could to turn my eyes skyward. In the depths of the shaft I could barely make out a ring of stars that twinkled apathetically back at me. And then the man who held me captive peeked over the lip of the ring and held out one hand in a mocking gesture of help. I couldn't see his eyes or any of his features except the definition of his shoulders and arms, but I knew it was that fat, old bastard who sent me down into this cavern to starve and die in darkness.

Only when my bare feet touched cold stone did I turn my head back down to my near surroundings. I had not the power to scream in rage on the way down, but now that I looked around I felt the urge knot in my throat. Hungry, unforgiving eyes gleamed faintly in the dimness, fixated on me. Where the seven hells could I be? The rope was cut and my body weight caught me off guard. The ground was icy and ravenous on my skin as my knees buckled, forcing me face first into the rough stone. I had little time to register the temperature or torn skin on my face before huge hands slipped over my mouth and around my waist. _No_, my mind snarled, angrily and wearily denying the prospect of rape.

When a sense of vertigo blanketed me and the greedy wall of eyes disappeared, I realized I was being carried somewhere. The warmth of the body was lost on me as the vivid trappings of mortal injury choked any other feeling into nonexistence. Deprived of food and water for the duration of my captivity before the drop into this hole, I had to struggle to remain awake. Only when the faintest of whispers met my ears did my body comply to my desperate plea. "Say nothing, do nothing, and you may yet live through this..." the voice murmured. I had every reason to argue, all my animal instincts and training screaming to escape, but I was so horribly tired.

I managed a slight nod and the carrier seemed to relax as they ferried me to wherever their destination may be. The arms about me adjusted so I hung over a single shoulder. The abrupt change in weight distribution rent a feral whimper of ache and grief, the pain in my ribs almost blinding. The body that held me aloft seemed ignorant of my plight, content to keep their attention on whatever they had in store. The sound of tinkling against hollow metal burrowed into the silence around us, and I fought through the gloom of pain to understand what was happening. A mechanism clicked and hinges creaked before we set into motion again, but the steps were few before I was abruptly upturned onto a hard surface.

"I don't know what you-" I began doggedly, attempting to seem stronger than my body was, but the hands clasped over my mouth again, shaking with energy I could only assume was anger.

"Do. Not. Talk," the voice, now clearly male, hissed. I nodded once more, biting my tongue to keep from letting any words escape. My eyes strained against the wall of black around me, vying for any light to latch onto. After a long breath of silence, I gave up trying to see beyond my nose and rolled onto my side. This was as comfortable as I could manage with my restraints and injuries, but It would be more than suitable for the vacuum that sucked me into unawareness. "Sleep," came the voice from the darkness again, and my body relented into the void.

* * *

He couldn't imagine a worse fate for a woman. To be sent down here where these rats would tear her apart for her orifices... The girl must have done something most unreasonable or had upset the wrong person for them to cast her down into _this_ kind of prison. The sound of her being lowered had caught the attention of the whole prison and he could name a few choice people who would have scooped her up to violate her as initiation, regardless of her state of health. The thought was as repulsive to him as the scars on his face were to the rest of the world, but that was the way of this hell he called home. He sighed and put his head in his hands, running them over the smooth surface of his bald scalp before thumbing over his stubble with a sigh.

Bane, still wound up by the newcomer and the prospect of fighting off would-be owners of the new inmate, sat on the edge of his cot and watched the woman sleep. His heart galloped in his chest and was the only thing he heard, though he could see the slow rise and fall of the woman's chest, labored as it was. His decision to take her had been rash and would cost him greatly, but what else could he do? The muscles in his shoulders roiled with tension at the thought, but he let the anger pass over him. He would address the problem that sleep in the bed across from him when morning came and her feeble eyes could see. He lay down and closed his eyes, meditating for hours until the adrenaline dissipated and he fell into dreamless rest.

* * *

The painlessness of the murky absence of sleep was vastly enjoyable. I felt no pain and experienced no terrors in the form of dreams, and even my breath came to me without shards of glass dancing in my lungs. I would have gladly remained in the lucidity of the void, but life was not so kind. Slowly the sensations of broken ribs, a fractured cheekbone, endless bruising and a decent amount of dislocated joints demanded my attention. I had thought I was still in the cell with the group of men who were beating me, but ever so timidly my surroundings snaked into view. I cracked an eye open and examined what was immediately around me. I lay on a decaying cot stained brown and black by years of use and abuse, though its staleness hinted that in recent years it lay untouched. A poorly crafted desk made of musty planks of wood stood miserably across from me at the other end of the room. Atop it was a pile of stained papers and dying books which I couldn't discern the names of, but to the right of the desk something moved.

A hulking shadow had appeared on the mottled brown and gray stone floor, cast from what looked to be at the foot of my bed. The form was hunched, predatory. My training had me instantly coiled against the bindings around my limbs, bellowing its desire to defend itself, though my every lesion, every purple and black blotch protested with the movements. Infinite minutes seemed to pass, but when nothing happened I was left with little choice but to face this alien world. "Good morning," the man said in a tone that lifted at the end of his sentence, as if expecting something. I was vastly concerned that I hadn't even moved to sit up but he had already discerned my awareness. I hesitated briefly but gave him as close to a response as he would get given the situation. I shook my head sheepishly and attempted to lean up, but failed with the rope that held me captive.

My breath caught as horrified bewilderment clasped my throat shut. The man who know knelt in front of me, looking over my restraints, was prodigiously built! Broad, bulging shoulders met sinewy neck muscles that supported a stoic and strong-jawed bald head. His chest was hammered iron under marred skin, guarded by arms that loosely rested to his sides. Though I soaked up his whole appearance it was his face itself that drew me in without care. Dominating forest green and brown eyes were analyzing every line on my face, every slight emotion and change in expression. They rested neatly beside a slightly crooked round nose, apparently broken a handful of times and set poorly back in place. He was petrifying. A testament to that statement was the chill that ran up my spine and settled back down in the pit of my stomach when he reached behind me and started to undo the cords around my hands.

This was a trap. As clear as it could be, it was another ploy to get information out of me. That obese slime-ball of a warlord was using this _place_ as a means to find out something, _anything._ I would die an honorable death before I let them know anything about the Order. It was my own fault I lay in this state of disrepair, and I would remain loyal to the League, even if they'd abandoned me. "Where am I?" I finally managed, though I already anticipated he would not answer. My voice cracked with each word and I was instantly aware that my throat ached for water. I coughed because of this, but he made no move to help that need.

"The Pit," he explained simply, turning his palms up and shrugging, dropping my wrist bindings to the floor in front of me..

I felt a flicker of irritation but it died against the wall of ever growing pain. "What?"

"The Pit; An end all, be all for those who deserve a fate worse than death."

His words still made little sense and for the first time since I joined the League of Shadows, _fear_ climbed out of the depths and up into my throat, tying itself in a knot. The prospect that I could still feel fear maddened me and while I grasped for words, trying to connect the dots that were still just out of my view, I tore apart the lump in my windpipe and killed the terror that had tried to resurface. "Who are you?" I finally asked, bereaved of any other ideas. The man across from me bristled, muscles flexing for the briefest of moments. His eyes turned down, and he mumbled something inaudible. I tried to piece it together but it was just too quiet to hear. "What?" I repeated, uncaring on whether or not he would lash out for my deaf ears.

"My name does not matter for the time," he grunted, turning his eyes back on me and sizing me up with their gaze. He moved to the worn strings about my ankles but I waved him off. I could get them, it would just take a long time in my current state. "You are lucky no one has seen that you're a woman." His focus dropped to my chest for the briefest of moments before returning to my face.

I would have made a gesture to hide the small mounds that donned my chest, but the crippling agony of my splintered body made me unwilling to be goaded by such trivial things. "Women are a token item, then," I observed out loud, more to myself than to him. "What do you want with me, then? Going to take advantage of me before you leave me to die of my wounds?"

Again the meaty shoulders tensed, his eyes crinkling into narrow slits. "A thank you would be sufficient," he chided, rubbing his thick hands together impatiently.

"Thank you? Are you mad?" I retorted, the ember of shock and anger burning white hot in my chest. My breath quickened as the world around me sank in along with the conversation. "Thank you for what? I have gotten no answers and you expect a thank you..." my sentence trails off as the dreadful pangs of grinding bone wrack my sides. When the feeling starts to subside I can finally push another comment out, though each word is increasingly more taxing. "I have no idea what I would be thanking you for, and in either case my worry is whether or not I'm lucky to be alive, or that I should just succumb to the damage." I point to the open conical prison outside of the small cage and shrink away from the round pit of cages that can be seen. I am skilled enough to hold my own, but I cannot survive as I am now. The thought crippled what little confidence remained to me.

The man frowned, tugging his defined lips into a grimace. He gave no reply and stood, heading for the door with a key in hand. "Where are you going?" I demanded, panic gripping me. He ignored my question and I tried to scramble to my feet, but he whirled and forced me down on the bed again.

"Stay here and be silent. Lie down and remain still." His words were the end of any opposition and he left the cell, locking the gated door behind him and throwing the key at the foot of my bed. I slump into the lumpy mattress, defeated by hunger, pain and this man who holds me for ransom in a prison of despair.


	4. Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things

In the folds of pain it felt like days that he had been gone. Where someone could go in this place was unclear to me, but I had no need to wonder of him or his dealings. I needed to try and set some bones in place and see if my face was as beaten as it felt. I risked a glance up to the spiraling network outside the cell, but found no comfort in the surroundings. There were steps haphazardly chiseled into the rock face across from my cell, pyramids of them piled upon each other before stopping abruptly at an area where two ropes dangled. Men in bedraggled robes walked about woefully, some talking, most not. The hopelessness in this abyss was definitely palpable. How would I ever escape?

I could not endanger myself in this state by going out there anytime in the near future. It would be suicide. Broken men were out there, and broken men can only make broken things. I ran my hands over the swollen and scabbed indentations of my face and winced as half of the wounds opened back up and oozed blood and plasma. Something in my chest felt heavy, as if I was breathing through a soggy filter. It dawned on me then, that I could possibly be bleeding internally. Blood rose in response to the realization, and I heaved the red contents of my stomach over the edge of the bed.

Fatigue alone was the reason that panic didn't set in. I tried to stand and get my bearings, but the world spun fervently around me. The bed slammed against my back before I could understand what had happened, and the pain swept any resistance I had mustered right out from under my feet. Fevered dreams snatched me away from the crumbling walls of the prison, the dull ache of starvation the only companion in the darkness.

* * *

It was the nagging repetitious noise that woke me some time later. it was my cellmate (could I even call him that?) systematically pumping himself up and down on a bar hung above us. He was doing chin ups. It looked like he had been here for a while, too, since sweat gleamed over his rippling muscles as they strained to keep up with his persistence. He watched me as he kept his pace, eyes unwavering. "Food is in the bowl next to you," he panted between reps. Sure enough there was a bowl of dismal looking slop and a square of hardtack and a cup of water on the floor beside my bed.

The pain about me came rushing back as I tried to reach for the sustenance, but I found I was less mobile than before. The ache of each injury was dulled against the varying medical attentions they'd recieved. It took a moment, but when I finally sat up, I found that I was skillfully (albeit crudely, due to the lack of proper supplies), bandaged about the chest. Poultices covered the span of my face, blinding my left eye and splints on both my hands bound my fingers together, as it was apparent some digits were broken in places I previously did not notice.

When he had finished his count of chin-ups, my company dismounted and took a deep drink from his own water supply and stretched. He looked at me the whole time, still, but the expression was thoughtful, not animalistic as it had been hours before. He watched as I struggled to pick the bowl up off the floor, the faintest hints of a smile pulling at his lips. I scowled back at him, but he did not see. He reached down and lifted the wooden bowl and spoon to my reach, mute features unreadable. The smile had vanished as quick as the flick of a switch, and he was indiscernible once more, even to my trained eyes.

I settled into an uncomfortable slouch over my food and ate, returning his stare without looking away. It was a disgusting excuse for gruel, but something I had grown accustomed to back on the streets of Tibet. As I tasted the partially unknown contents of the bowl, dipping the hardtack into it occasionally, I watched my companion change his regimen and start on some hanging crunches. Each time he hung himself upside down, he looked at me with sharp and vacant eyes. Eventually I'd had enough of the silent brooding and I glared unhappily back at him. "What?" I demanded, the lassitude of the last few weeks clearly getting the better of me.

He gave no answer as he drilled onward in his exercise, never pulling his eyes away. When I had finished my ration and effectively eaten half the square of hardtack, I took another stab at standing. It remained as futile as it was the first time, and he went to his feet to stop me. "You will surely die if you stress those wounds," he reminded me, his brows angling down dangerously.

I barked a laugh but felt my ribs sing in protest, so I stopped before I did anymore damage. "I feel you might be right." I smiled wryly despite myself, and propped my one pillow against the stone wall behind my cot. "I suppose I do owe you some thanks for patching me up like this," I admitted, looking myself over again. My left knee was braced as well, it seemed, and my right ankle was wrapped so stiffly that I found it hard to move my toes. If all went well, I could be in walking shape by a handful of weeks. Until then... I was intent in finding out as much as I could about this place.

My companion had already resumed his strenuous motions, touching his head to his knees with each repetition on the bar above me. He explained between breaths that it wasn't him who tended to my dismal appearance, but that they had a doctor in the lower levels and he came to help. I would have to thank the man some time when I was healed, but until such a time, he'd have to wait. "So... Are you going to tell me your name now?" I asked when he had been silent for a while.

Much like this morning, his muscles stretched taut and he stopped moving. Was his name something to be ashamed of? I couldn't help but laugh at that inside the confines of my mind. If that was true, this man in front of me was _some_ character. "No matter, then. Do your thing," I waved a broken hand around dismissively, and he took to heart my advice. He left the cell again, to where I could not say. I shook my head apathetically and let myself enjoy the solitude.

Eventually a ragged garbed man approached my cell and spread his lips wide in a grin that deserved to be punched out. "فعلت ذلك الوحش اللعنة لك في التقديم، صبي؟" he chuckled. The language was immediately recognizable as Arabic, but as I had never spent my time learning it when I was younger, the string of words meant little to me. The comment he made seemed lewd and derogatory from what I gathered, however, so I smiled sweetly and picked a loose piece of stone from the wall behind me, pelting the bastard in the face with it.

"Fuck off." I closed my eyes and listened to his lively cursing, relishing the fact that I could still do something in this disheveled state. Eventually he wandered off, and the dull roar of voices replaced him. I let myself fall asleep, worried not by the world I'd been condemned to.


	5. Breath of Hope

"_You are ready, child. It is time for your initiation. Breathe deep of the smoke and face your fears. Face the fears of other men." Ra's and the rest of the order fall in rank in front of me, their anonymous eyes glowing absently. The hazy drug smells sickeningly sweet as I inhale its scent and let the hallucinogen take its full effect. The men start to shape shift in front of me, and I brace myself. The breath of each man is deafening, and I hear Ra's start up again, but his voice is everywhere! "Fear is the basis of every motion of every man. If you command your fear, you command yourself." The bodies moved in unison, parting like a sea in front of me. A single arm lashed out from my right and cleaved a nice sized cut on my shoulder. I hissed and turned, but the blade was gone._

_The eyes of anonymity stared blankly back at me. I snarled, watching the visage of each man fall away to reveal each man and woman who passed me by as a child. Terror reached out with its metaphoric hands and squeezed my heart. These people would have left me to die and not felt anything more than disgust. I felt betrayal, rage, hurt, and a deep buzzing drove my emotions to full volume. I saw the flicker of movement ahead of me, rising to the voice of my master. "Do you see your fear before you? Face it! Cast it down and it can never manipulate you. Destroy it and you will be free." I charged forward as the bodies swam near, choking me between their warm closeness. I kept my focus on the motion ahead and stabbed forward with my katana, feeling the steel meet flesh. The people retreated from me and made a circle, closing me off from freedom._

_I scanned each one of their anonymous faces, vacant eyes scrutinizing me just the same. The drug worked harder and faster to cripple my senses, and it succeeded as I missed someone jump out and strike the flat of their blade against my neck. "You're losing yourself. Do you think the world won't use your weakness against you? Forsake the bondage of fear and __**win**__." Ra's was right, but how could I find out which one was him? And then it became clear. I moved close to the first circle of men and anticipated their movements, falling into rank with them as they changed form. A frustrated shuffle of feet met my ears, but I didn't let the noise distract me. Ra's sounded impressed when he spoke again. "One with your terror... I see. The hunter becomes the hunted." The bodies jumped again, forming two ranks with a divide between us. Ra's was ahead of me, looking across the space and right into my eyes._

_And the audience of anonymity bore empty gazes into the depths of my eyes. I leaped into action, feinting right and twisting my wrist left at the last second. Steel met steel as our blades stopped each other, pressing with increasing strength against the edge in an attempt to win over their adversary. I abruptly turned the sword flat and raked a terrible song from the friction of the blades. Even with that, Ra's was unflinching against me. I jumped away from the altercation and observed my surroundings. The whole clan was gone! __**BANG-POP-CRACK!**_ _Flashes of light and sound flickered in and out of existence around me, but I made no move to cover myself. This part was second nature to me. "Good, good. You remembered your training," Ra's purred from his hiding place amongst the pillars._

_The eyes of each anonymous member were gone, now. The world breathed around me, distorting walls and beams and even the air. Particles danced in the fragments of sunlight and distracted my every sense as I tried to concentrate, to find my master and best him. The wooden panel hallways felt foreign to me as I traversed each one, searching. Always searching. One of the paper sliding doors caved as Ra's forced his way through, bearing down on me with swing after swing. "Look at me, child. Look! Attack the source of your weaknesses. Don't lose to them." I blocked every slash to my body, trying to land a blow when an opening permitted, but he was too fast. After a plume of sparks caused me to recoil, I watched in transfixed horror as my leader's face melted away to reveal a set of features I didn't recognize. A fiendishly masked bald man with cool hazel eyes stared back at me, looming with all the girth of a tank. He tossed aside the sword and attacked with bare knuckles, landing a well aimed punch to my wrist._

_The katana dropped to the ground and I was forced to deflect each massive fist as it came near. But, this was my domain now. Hand to hand combat was where Ra's had honed my skills, and I easily blocked and countered, landing hit after hit to crippling points of the body. The enemy that no longer resembled Ra's Al Ghul started to stagger, and I felt victory hang in the air. I delivered another terrible flurry of punches and kicks and watched the opposition shimmer and fade into nothingness. The world was surreal as I scanned the hallway, absorbing the unrealistic detail of everything. A hand touched my shoulder and I reeled, almost attacking my master in surprise. He stopped me with a small smile of approval and I sighed, relieved._

_I had been accepted into the League of Shadows._

I felt better the next morning, having dreamed the fond memory of being accepted into the order. It was sad that I was excommunicated now, but I understood the punishment was not unjust. A member who could not protect themselves from the manipulation of other men was a weak link in the chain of fearlessness. I vowed that I would never make the same mistake again, but it made little difference in the depths of this pit. The early morning light gave the prison an ethereal glow, almost as if it was part of the hallucination of my dreams. The stones glistened with morning dew and would have been a beautiful thing to behold if they were not part of the damned cage that held us all here.

I pushed myself up higher against the pillow and the wall and watched my cellmate meditate. He was awake before me it seemed, and deeply intent on centering his own psyche. I admired that in a person, but somehow I found it hard to think someone in this place would have the patience to do what he did now. In either case, it would do me no good to ponder it, so I resolved to join him. I hadn't meditated since before I returned from the United States, and it had taken a toll on my ability to cope. I kept an eye on my compatriot as I adjusted to the best of my ability, taking a half Lotus position so as to keep my left leg straight and not irritate the set knee.

The meditation must have really put him at ease because through all the noise I made, he made no movement registering that he heard me. It appeared as if he didn't even notice me. All the better, I supposed. Forming an "o" shape with my unbound fingers I began to center my thoughts into the hole I had made, pouring every sensation and irritation into its depths. After a while, I felt absent of my own body, entirely free of pain and worry. I only felt the breath fill and escape my lungs, bringing life with each renewal. Time seemed infinite, but eventually I roused from the peace and let each sensation come back to me one by one.

When I had all but my vision back, I brought my thoughts together and inhaled. I let my eyes open slowly, drinking in the vibrant colors from the fully illuminated cell. Each shade of slate gray and brown was tangibly different, and every stain of grease or blood or excrement, as vulgar as it was, was crystal clear. My senses were fully about me and I brought my focus down to where my cellmate was sitting, staring in my direction. I cocked my head slowly to one side and quirked an arched brow. "Yes?" I trilled, a weary but genuine grin spreading over my face.

"Are you copying me for any reason other than to be annoying?" he growled back. There would have been anger in his voice if he hadn't just recovered from his own meditation, I noted. Instead the growl was born of the first use of his vocal chords for the day. It was almost a wearisome sound, but it held too much feral energy to be a tired reply. His words made my smile broaden and that elicited a dark frown of confusion from him.

"I meditated daily before my imprisonment up there, and then down here." I turned my palms up and shrugged, ignoring the brambles of rib pain that seared my side. "I am more interested in exactly how you came by the _seiza_ position. Were you taught by a master of some sort?"

The single bout of laughter he offered in reply was thick with snarky and bitter emotions. He bit back any further cacophonous mirth and lanced me with a wicked stare. "_Masters_ is more like it. Makes little difference now, though." He inhaled deeply and held the breath, bringing whatever thoughts were in his head to a halt. Being centered was the key to winning in anything. Both of us knew that. He exhaled and I realized I had mimicked him without thinking, letting the breath leave me just as he did. "You're trying me," he spat, his jaw set, stubbornly trying to keep himself from rising to my alleged attempts of mockery.

I held my hands up in surrender, ignoring my protesting injuries. "Hey now, I don't mean offense. Meditation was and is a contagious thing for me. Don't mistake my participation for impertinence." He grunted an unconvinced reply and stood up, stretching and letting me get a full view of the predatory shape of his body. A belt of some kind covered his middle, but his chest, shoulders, arms, back, and neck were still naked. I was in awe of the natural power that rippled underneath his pale skin. His arms had to be twice as thick as my fists, corded with thick and terribly strong tendons, ligaments, and muscles. I had to wonder how someone who lived down here maintained that structure with the poor excuse of food they served.

While thinking of food I found that my stomach was empty, and it animated such great vehemence at me that I had to lean forward, crushing the pain with my other internals. That I'd gone without food for half a day and it was already upset was enough of a sign that my body was healing quickly. "Not to be pushy, or assume you do it out of obligation, but..." I paused as he turned on me, arms crossed and eyes glimmering with muted interest. "Well, frankly, I'm hungry. I need food to heal, and I need to heal so I can leave this place."

I was humorous this morning it appeared, for the man laughed again, harder and even more sardonic than the first time. His cheeks flushed, but his eyes were cold. "No one leaves this place. No one has, no one ever will," he explained, shaking his head and leaving without another word.

I blew out a breath, defeated before the day was even started. I ran a finger through the part of my hair that wasn't stuck to my head by bandages and decided if I was going to spend my time in here, healing, that I would try to learn as much about this place as I could. I thought up an endless list of questions to ask him when he got back with the ration of food, and I napped the rest of the time, dreaming of indistinct images that reminded me of home.

* * *

From that morning on they were silent partners, a well oiled pair of cogs in a broken machine. He kept at his same routine of exercise then food, and slowly, as her body healed, she fell into the pattern as well. She did not ask to venture out, even when her wounds were nearly gone. When he left her for the long hours of the day she resorted to occupying her time with the few blank sheets of paper he had. For being the kind of person warranting imprisonment here, she was a very good artist he had come to find out. The pages were filled on both sides with scrawlings, images, and bits of her thoughts by the time he would return with food, and they had extended their interactions to simple conversations about the subject matter she was conveying on the yellowed sheets. It was mostly her talking, with him grunting and adding his shortened opinion in between, but she didn't appear offended by his lack of conversation skills.

In return for her increased cooperation he answered her questions about the prison rules over their poor excuse for food. Before either of them realized it, it had been nearly three months of nameless company where they simply existed next to each other. She'd marked the days on the wall behind her bed with a rock every morning before they began their regimen of calisthenics, stretches, and meditation. An unspoken competition arose from these brief bonding moments, and the exercising became a game. Whoever collapsed first was the loser and had to double their reps the next day. She always lost, but not before pushing him close to his own limits. He had to hand it to her, after watching her for the first month she was well enough to join him, he had misread her.

Until today.


	6. Birds and Their Cages

"While I truly appreciate your concern, I can handle myself." I had spent the past cluster of months growing more restless with each passing day that I felt better. My cellmate stood in front of me now, blocking the cell door with his imposing form. I hummed a low snarl in my throat, displeased with his attempts to stop me. I plenty of training to back up my claim, and if he had a moral obligation that drove him to this, well... He could just stuff it.

"I doubt that," he commented matter-of-factly. His lips twitched smugly, but he did not smile. This was a man who had been honing his manipulative skills for a long time. But, the flicker in his eyes betrayed him and I growled again. He was wrong to underestimate me. I hadn't put myself in a fighter's stance or held that air about me since my sentence here, but even so it was ill spoken of him to look down on me.

With needle-sharp reflexes I shot my hand out and tapped against the pressure point of his elbow that deprived it of use. "You don't know my skill and you _really _don't want to test me." The subsequent snarl of shock and anger was enough for me to step back and smile triumphantly. I was running on high amounts of unspent energy with a low tolerance for irritation today, it seemed.

"They put you in here for a reason, then," he conceded, tending to his arm by smashing it against the bars with a grunt. The limb regained its mobility near instantaneously and he bore down on me with renewed vigor. "You will not be so lucky the second time, girl." I scoffed and lashed out again but he caught my hand effortlessly. I didn't let the surprise register before I threw my left knee out to meet his ribs and pulling my hand back. Another seamless block impacted my thigh, shoving my leg back down. His hand thrust unrealistically fast right through where my arms reached up to block and his fingers closed around my throat. "Do you understand now?" The calm was back in his voice, but the anger boiled in his tawny emerald eyes and shook his hands defiantly.

I managed a nod, stifled and seeing flashing lights as the oxygen dried up in my brain. I almost pried his hands away, but thought better of inciting more wrath. After another lengthy moment and the world growing dim around me, he relinquished his grip and I fell to the ground heaving. I was livid, the mixture of terror, admiration, and vertigo swirling the fog of my thoughts as I gasped for breath over and over. But, underneath that initial torrent of emotion, some sick and twisted part of me stirred. Nauseated by the notion that losing could ever rouse the beast in me, I concentrated on breathing and preparing myself for another blow that I assumed would follow. "Finish your hardtack, we're cutting your hair after." His voice left no question that he'd force me if he had to, and I just jerked my chin grimly.

As we entered the small washroom attached to our cell, he brandished a crude but deadly honed shiv. I turned so I faced him and grit my teeth as he raised the point and moved towards my face. Then I remembered, when the sound of ripping fabric reached my ears, that I was still covered at the face with strips of cloth. He cut the obscuring bandages away, careful to avoid looking at the features of my face. _Was he afraid to look upon a woman?_ I found a sinister amount of pleasure from unsettling him, even if the idea was just a figment of my imagination. The last of the scratchy weavings dropped away from my cheeks and I ran a nimble hand through my thick and briefly long hair.

* * *

The woman had not flinched when he stopped her second attack, nor when he dangled her petite from above the stone floor with one of his hands. She was strong. Stronger still than he'd anticipated while they were getting her back into shape with her most grievous wounds healed. The pressure point she'd exploited was something he hadn't anticipated, but he countered it well enough. His patience had been diminished the moment she betrayed his trust by lashing out at him, but nonetheless his faint moral compass told him to help her.

He shook his head, disappointed with himself that he was still driven by such weak fragments of his humanity. As he led her to the more privy confines of the washroom and cut away the pungent cloth that hid her face, he realized this was the first time he would see her features in their natural state, unmarred by the scabs, bruises and broken bones. As the shiv skillfully exposed more and more of her visage, he avoided looking with increased difficulty.

She was radiant against the world of the Pit. He'd only seen a handful of women, and each one died within their first few months here, but never had he seen someone with such striking features. She was infinitely more attractive than... Than _that _woman. He couldn't bring himself to think her name, even though she had been here for the better part of two years. _Now is not the time for bitterness, _his logical side chided. With an unnoticed nod he agreed, pulling the last strip away from his bunkmate's face and boring his gaze to the waterfall of locks that were matted and clinging desperately to her head. As she ran a hand through and through, untangling the mess of hair, he turned away. Something about seeing her without the mask of anonymity made him unsteady. The feeling angered him and before she could muster another ill-thought of comment, he grabbed the ends of her mane, lifted, and sheared the tendrils in half. Then, he left the cell and went down to visit his other responsibilities, leaving a wake of questions behind.

_Her name is Melisande, and the child's name is Talia,_ his conscience hissed grumpily.

* * *

I had never had any attachment to my appearance, so the loss of my hair wasn't too painful, notwithstanding the abrupt and confusing dismissal thereafter. I had a nicely shaped face and the uneven cropped cut he left me with was still pleasing to my eye, though it did lend to the masculinity he surely intended. I looked too much a boy amidst the collection of men, but it would do. When he finished carving the locks of my hair away and abandoned me to my own devices, I scratched at my scalp and debated on what to do with the half day of light I had left.

With nothing better to occupy my time with than the blank pages of aged paper and graphite, I sat down and began to draw. Inspiration hit me with a brilliant image that I recalled from my time with the Order, and soon enough there was a myriad of exquisitely detailed eyes amidst faintly outlined bodies of similar shape and size. Only one pair of optics differed from the rest, and these were the eyes of a master. I spent the last of the daylight perfecting them, shading and adding more to the page until my hands were smudged with the powder of the graphite.

I smiled victoriously, holding up the page to the last ray of sun. My work of art was something to be proud of I knew, but the pride died when my eyes fell upon my cellmate, lurking at the outside of the cage. When he saw that I'd spotted him he gave no indication of surprise or interest and moved inside, sitting on his cot without a word. His eyes were downcast when I turned to face him, and his whole presence emanated a sense of defeat. Whatever had happened while he was gone was deeply troubling him. Compelled by some inopportune sense of compassion, I held out the sketch and gestured for him to look, and quickly. It was almost too dark to make out what I had drawn.

He looked at it for a long time. So long, in fact, that night was in full swing by the time he thrust my handiwork back at me. "It is good," he begrudged, looking out towards the open pit where faint rays of moonlight glistened off the flecks of metallic deposits in the rock face. He seemed deeply disturbed by something. After another extended period of silence he ran his hands over his scalp to the back of his head pulling them to the front of his face and stroking his ever present stubble with his fingertips. He let a stifled sigh escape him before surprising me with a puzzling question. "May I have that one?"

I narrowed my gaze at him and contemplated the implications of letting him have it. "Why?" What reason did he have for taking it other than to rip it apart or sell it for whatever it was they used for currency here?

He looked away from me for another extended period of time, contemplating things I could not know. I shifted in my seat impatiently and he snapped his attention back to me, resolving to reply. "Vinen and Ayham, the men who tended to your wounds, are asking after some form of compensation. You have no currency of importance here, and there has been word about your sketches reaching them from me and from others who have glanced in here. They would like one." It was my turn to prolong the moment of silence, debating on the subtle things I may be missing.

"Why this one? If they've been asking, why not have them ask me directly?" It made no sense for him to ask when those two were perfectly capable on their own.

"They have been the target for scrutiny as of recent. They would risk too much trying to come up here for a simple piece of paper."

"I would deliver the-"

"No. You will not." He was offering no quarter on this, but I didn't have it in me to argue the point further.

"Take the picture then. If you can profit from the ones I have already compiled, then do so. Maybe we could have something other than hardtack and gruel if my simple pieces of paper prove worthwhile." I shook my head, put the sketch on the desk, and retreated to my cot. I didn't want to deal with the monotonous circle of unanswered questions with my bunkmate tonight. I found no comfort in my attempts to sleep, only the unhappy rustlings of my companion and myself. Morning was upon us by the time I finally settled to rest, and I faintly heard the papers shuffle and the hinges of the cell door swing open and shut. I looked up just as he was locking the cell again and yawned a reply to his nicety before laying back down and passing out.


	7. Small World, Indeed

He was awake and calm when morning touched his brow and signaled the rest of the prison to rouse. The hours of sleep allowed his mind to absorb the fact that she'd surprised him the previous day. It was oddly clear to him _now,_ the way her eyes shone when he blocked her exit. There was the light of a wolf inside their depths. She had knocked his arm into near uselessness and caught him with his guard down. It was good of her to be knowledgeable in fighting, but he could have killed her then for her insolence. Instead he made an example of her and cleared any question on who was the better fighter (or at least stronger in raw power). Pain meant little to him as it stood, but immobilization was different. If he could not fight he was a dead man.

_But_, his mind whispered, _she would be a good ally down here_. He beat down the thought before it could manifest, but it rebounded stubbornly. _If_ she could be coerced into being his right hand man- _woman_- they could hold their own and maybe even get some better food than the barely digestible substance they were served now. He rose from his cot and stretched, resigned to setting about his tasks early. His cellmate had only just fallen into sleep and he figured they would not talk for many days while he pawned off her skilled works for anything they could be deemed worth. He picked up a handful of her drawings, putting the wall of eyes on top so he would deliver it to its intended owner first.

As he was shutting the cell and locking it from any external attempts to break in, he watched her lift her head and look at him. He froze for a fraction of a second and was locked in place by the deep hues of her eyes. Even in the haze of exhaustion, they were the most vibrant shade he'd ever seen. Definitely jewels amongst the dullness of stone in the prison. There would have been an attraction stirring in him if she'd not attacked him earlier but at the moment all he saw was another obstacle to overcome. There was no kindness there other than his moral compass telling him to spare her the rapists and murderers who would still like a piece of her if they knew her gender.

Bane let the silence endure for a long moment, gleaning a bright amount of information from the way she leaned up on her elbow, how her eyes only slightly wavered from his, and how she set her jaw in a frown, eyebrows meeting in an unpleasant "v". The hair left on her head was tousled wildly around her cheeks, barely touching the tops of her round ears. It was a lousy trim, but no hair would have been too abrupt a change after the whole prison seeing her descend and watching her carefully in passing. They hadn't seen her breasts or the curve of her waist to her hips, and that was a godsend for however short a time it remained. Her bust was small as far as breasts went, but they were still visible if not pressed down. Instead of jumping straight to that fact however, he drawled calmly "Morning."

She didn't reply for a long moment, but eventually yawned a similar comment. He contemplated asking whether or not she was alright, but it was plain enough to see she wasn't. He twisted the key in the locking mechanism and tossed it back into the cell before turning. Down four flights of steps and up another set of two to the other side of the prison, he found himself at the gates of the doctor and his assistant. When Ayham, the salt and pepper haired man of a more stout build, greeted him and ushered him in, Bane took as seat next to the adjacent cell, turning his back to the cage where the opium addicted doctor Vinen was still sleeping. "Ah, good. You've brought compensation from your..." Ayham said, letting his sentence trail off for Bane to finish.

"Nothing. That one is nothing to me." He held out the stack of sketches, keeping the most recent one for another. He had lied when he said this one was for either doctor, and instead moved to open a third cell that was attached to this one. In this particular barred room was something far more precious to him than even Osito, the bear he'd carried as a child, was. Melisande sat with a two year old Talia, whispering words the young one was trying her hardest to learn. Arabic was proving difficult for the child, but she was resilient and stubborn for how small she was. "I brought something for you," he said at the door to their room.

Melisande looked up from her place with her daughter and smiled the way only mothers could. "Come, Bane. Gifts can wait. Talia has been asking after you." She patted the stone floor next to her, uncaring of the dirt she stirred with the motion. Unable to truly deny her, he sighed and let himself in, locking the door behind him as he was so careful to do. When he'd taken the place beside her, Talia looked at him with a glint in her eye. She looked like she would pounce if the moment allowed. "Talia," her mother addressed, voice firm but not unkind. "Tell him."

A curious look crawled over Bane's face as he turned his attention from mother to daughter. Talia frowned and moved her jaw silently, trying to remember how to say the thing she was supposed to tell him. "Bane is guardian," she pieced together slowly in Arabic, tongue tying herself half a dozen times. "Mawla, Bane. Mawla." Her words were a hard and somehow comforting reminder of the fragments of his humanity he still retained. _Mawla_ meant "protector" in the Arabic language, and he took great pride in her affectionate term.

"Mawla for you and your mother," he confirmed quietly, patting her head as a sign of approval. "You are doing well, Talia. Keep it up." He made no effort to mask his words with either of the women. Talia was smart and understood far more than either he or her mother were willing to admit, so he had never tried to speak down to the little one. "What were you learning before I rudely interrupted?" He posed the question to the child, delicately maneuvering the conversation back towards the lessons.

Talia lit up the room as she went down the list of words Melisande had been teaching her. "Vinen means shepherd, and shepherd is a man who helps other men. Ayham means brave, and brave means a person who stands up even if he is scared of the monsters in front of him." At the mention of their names, both doctors looked towards the toddler and expressed a series of proud but painful smiles. Talia did not notice and continued her list, repeating her pet name for Bane. "Mawla means protector, and protector means a person who tells monsters that they can't have other people, and stops monsters when they don't listen." The definitions were infantile, but it was still a great leap in her vocabulary compared to even a month ago.

Bane let himself grin softly, allowing for the brief moment of happiness to touch his outer appearance. Talia beamed back at him, unable to contain herself anymore. She scrambled to her feet and leaped into his lap, giggling when he yelped in surprise. "You are happy today," he noted, hoisting the tiny girl into the air with one hand and playing that she was flying.

She giggled endlessly in reply, flapping her arms like the wings of a bird. "I'm flying, Ommah!" she squealed to her mother, absent of worry. Melisande wrapped her worn robe about her tighter, pulling the blue brown hood over her head. It was a nervous habit of her to do in the presence of men, but Bane paid little attention to it. Talia was kicking to be let down so she could sit on his shoulders now. He complied with her wishes and let her lean atop his head, yanking at his facial hair that was abnormally long for his tastes.

"I have a surprise for you, Talia," he finally said, ignoring the stiffening of Melisande's body. Bane pulled the sheet of paper from its hiding place among his own robes and held it out in front of him so he and Talia both could see it. "My friend," he choked on the term, "drew this for you and your Ommah. A wall of guardians just for you when I'm not here."

Talia studied it intently, tilting her head one way and then another. "Is that you, Mawla?" she asked, pointing to the pair of eyes that were more intense and commanding than the rest.

Bane swelled with pride that the little girl would think so highly of him, but he spoke the truth. "No, little one, that is not me. If it was, how could I be right here?" He pulled one of his hands away from the page to poke the child's sides, sending a bout of giggles through her. She was ever the ticklish little thing.

"Show Ommah, Bane. Show Ommah!" Talia gripped his scruff and shook his head with impatience. Although the tugging was painful, he made no sound and handed the page over to Melisande. Her eyes narrowed for a long time, then they widened and tears spilled over. Both Talia and Bane were shocked and pressed her for a reason, but she shook her head, unable to compose herself.

After taking a breath and bottling her emotions, Melisande lifted her head and looked directly at him. "I think it is about time I tell you why I was put here, Bane."


	8. Twice the Fool, Thrice a Corpse

When I woke up it was near noon and I felt the beginnings of a headache creep in around my eyes. I remembered what happened the day before long with what transpired just hours earlier, too. He left. Again. There was little missed when he was gone. He didn't talk much and even less so when I asked questions. That bothered me if only for the fact that he was my only source of conversation, but I couldn't do anything about it.

I'd been awake for a couple hours when a handful of visitors sauntered up to the bars. I was in the middle of meditation when their hungry whispers touched my ears. In an effort to keep my gender a secret, and to play the skittish inmate, I curled up with my knees to my chest. It made little difference to me what these men had done or were capable of doing after being down here, but playing appearances made the enemy relax. They eyed me with brown and black eyes, sifting through my appearance with a learned mind. "وضع الديك في حفرة الخطأ، الصبي." one jeered, gravelly voice sneering over each foreign word. I couldn't understand any of what he said but it was mocking enough to illicit a round of laughter from his companions.

"Go fuck a goat," I spat back to whatever he said, trying to dampen my voice with a deeper note. If I had spoken naturally, they'd have guessed I was a woman. Eighteen years old or not, it wasn't going to be easy fighting off the whole prison just to save myself a brutal raping. The men couldn't understand me either it appeared, but they too got the meaning behind my bark. They cursed at me angrily, using their hands to convey lewd and dangerous images. After standing up and stepping toward them with no sign of them moving away, I leaped forward and grabbed the ring-leader's wrist, snapping it back until I heard the crunch of success. His companions jumped back as he howled and pulled his arm close, holding it to his chest like a baby. "Piss. Off." None of them made a move, each one expressing their displeasure differently. They would break down the bars now, I was sure.

"ترك" a deep voice threatened loudly, just out of view of my cell. The men looked like they were going to disobey what was said, but they thought better of sticking around and bolted away. My cellmate appeared a moment later, food and drink in hand. "Making friends?" he asked wryly, one eyebrow arched. The glare I shot him said more than enough. I waited for him to come inside but he just stood outside the cell. What was he waiting for? Another thank you? _Fat chance of that_. Nearly ten minutes passed before my patience was gone and I finally broke.

"Are you expecting something?" I asked sarcastically.

"Well I can't very well get in when I don't have the key." He had said it simply, as if he knew the outcome of the situation was already in his favor. I hesitated. He'd locked himself out just like every day previous, but he'd still found a way in while I napped so did he have another key? Was this a trap? He saw the unconvinced look I had and sighed. "It was a fake. The key I've been leaving. Had to make sure you weren't going to make the mistake of escape." That alone was enough to make me deny him entry. "I guess I will eat this all myself, then," he shrugged and sat down, leaning against the bars and taking a hefty bite of gruel.

My stomach growled and my throat ran dry but I wouldn't so easily be swayed. "What is your name?" I asked again, stubbornly. It wasn't going to go well for either of us if we kept this charade up. We would be here awhile, that was evident, so there was no reason to keep being elusive. Saying "hey you" wouldn't suffice in the prison. He huffed and let his shoulders do his talking, still unwilling to divulge the answer. "I'm not going to let you in until you tell me, and I'm accustomed to starvation so I can wait." He made no reply so I grasped for something to bribe him with.

The desk was the only thing that held anything worthwhile and I approached it, searching. It was a gamble, but I didn't have much to lose. "I'm sure there's something in these books that could do with some tearing..." I menaced, grabbing the nearest book and waving it out in front of me with a taunt. The muscles in his back stiffened and he turned slowly, eying me over his shoulder with the same expression as when I disabled his arm.

"Put. Those. Down," he whispered, the words dripping from his lips with disdain.

"Make me."

* * *

"Don't make me make you." He was visibly shaking, the threat of losing his hours upon hours of written work and reading material driving him to see red.

"_Make me_," she repeated, enunciating every syllable, making his skin crawl with untempered rage. He could pry the bars open, he'd done something similar before. But, it would only serve to seal her fate to the rest of the prison, so he discarded that idea quickly. Perhaps she deserved it with the way she kept acting, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She did not realize the place she was in nor exactly how lucky she was that he stuck his neck out for her. He opened his mouth to condemn the situation, but a chant had been taken up. Not _the climb_, but another, less noble call. He turned his attention away from his cellmate and focused on what the noise was about.

"Tohaadii," the prisoners jeered, shuffling down into the lowest part of the pit, where the rains had spat dirty water into what now resembled a murky pool. Two men circled in the cool liquid, sizing each other up. One was larger than the other by a head, and twice as lean. Bane analyzed them quickly, putting an educated gamble on the bigger one. Not for his size, but for the way his feet moved. He kept himself turned sideways from his enemy. _That was smart_, he thought, admiring the show of brains. But Bane couldn't claim the same intelligence now. He had forgotten so quickly about the woman in his cell that when her hands slipped outside of the bars and around his throat he was too late to stop them.

The touch was brief, her fingers holding no hostility, but the message was clear. His hands shot up in reply, crushing her wrists with the girth of his fingers and tearing them away from his neck. "Fool me once, shame on you," he seethed, "but fool me twice, and I will break you." He almost did break her wrists then, bending them until she grunted in pain. But, the consequences of being crippled for weeks again would kill her. Instead, he let her hands go and shoved her back onto her rump.

_Down below the fight began, combatants excitedly throwing themselves at one another. The smaller one landed a blow first; a low kick to his opposer's thigh. He howled a mocking string of insults, egging on the crowd around him. He lunged forward again and hit the more imposing man in the chest. Once, twice, thrice. His fist landed a blow with each chant that surrounded them._

The look Bane gave her when he turned and rose was murderous. "Let me in before I snap the bars and give you to the rest of the prison for that stupid display."

"_Tohaadii, tohaadii!" the prisoners continued, louder as the men clashed. The bigger of the combatants was starting to rise, hands now properly blocking the flurry of attacks the smaller man threw at him._

His bunkmate sat on the floor, stunned. She was skilled at fighting, of that he was sure, but she still made the mistake of letting herself be caught. Maybe she would get the hint this time. He banged his hands against the gate along with the chanting. "_Tohaadii, tohaadii!"Clang-clang-clang! _He gave her no reprieve with his imposing presence and threatening gestures. The green and brown swirled in his eyes, expression taking a turn for the worse.

"Let me in," he repeated methodically, saying each word in sync with his fist against the metal. She finally clambered up, awestruck by his sheer presence.

"_Tohaadii, tohaadii!" The men were shouting now, smashing tin cups against stone and steel. The larger man was quickly gaining ground on the smaller foe, sending him into the water with a precise blow to his ribs. The crowd screamed for it to be finished and the larger man pounced._

She gripped the key and slid it into the lock, turning it.

"_Tohaadii, tohaadii!"_

The door swung open and below the competitors grew near the end of the fight. Bane shouldered his way into the cell, forcing the barred door closed again. A splash in the lowest level silenced the shouting. For a long breath there was no movement besides Bane's slow steps towards his cellmate. She shrank under his imposing size, belying the fighter stance her body displayed. She was manipulating the fear of her body, refusing to be crippled by it. That bit of information would have to be catalogued in his memory for later. "The key," he demanded quietly, palm up. She gave it back without a fight and sighed, throwing the book back on the desk and collapsing into the bed, mentally processing her situation again.

_Below, the small man lay face down, a slow cloud of red infecting the pool of water around him. The prisoners left him there in silence. There was no honor in losing. The dead man had been freed of his body, free to fly away._

_Away from this inescapable pit._

* * *

There was no way he was human. I had seen men of all kinds while I was with the League, but my cellmate put them all to shame. I sat limply on the cot, trying to imagine just how the man in front of me could have built himself up so much if he'd been in here. I had nothing better to do, and he was content to ignore me now that his display of power had effectively muted me. He discarded the robe that loosely hid his shape, letting the full extent of his raw physique be seen. An angry pink scar spiderwebbed down his spine from the base of his skull, delving below the belt to unknown places. I had the sudden urge to trace it with my fingers, but I stalled myself, still trying to put together how exactly he could feed himself enough to stay the size he was.

Whatever had happened to cause his size and that scar was surely the reason he was so distant and hard at present. "I'm hungry," I mumbled, scratching at the lone scab still on my cheek.


	9. Ever So Different

My bunkmate had enough self-respect to share the food with me even though I'd attacked him again. He'd done a decent amount damage to my wrists but thankfully that injury circumvented any residual pain I felt in my face. I watched him for a good hour before feeling that the anger had dissipated enough for me to move about him without risking another altercation. There was no sense in waiting for him to do something so I went about tending to my small injuries. He'd bruised my neck with the choking from yesterday and my wrists throbbed underneath purple flesh.

When I'd had my fill of water I set the pitcher aside to use for rinsing my face and smoothing my hair. I had been so absorbed in the past few months that I didn't even properly assessed my own appearance other than the hair butchery. Not that it mattered much, but my captor _had_ mentioned I didn't look very womanly. Indeed he was right about that. Upon inspecting the attire under my matted robes and hood I found that I still wore my form fitting undergarments which would hide my femininity if I adjusted them a bit. _That was nice of him_, I sarcastically thought, furrowing my brow in upset. The fat fuck of a warlord hadn't had the guts enough to strip me naked after all. Over the undergarments rested the prison robes, a very worn cut of rough-spun wool fabric, tacked together at the neck. It wrapped around my shoulders like a poncho, but hung down nearly to my feet. There was plenty of cloth to use here. I wouldn't have to beg my unhappy companion for bandages and he wouldn't have to disappear for hours at a time as an excuse.

It was nearing evening by the time I had washed my face and hair and wrapped my wrists. The bruises about my neck would go away after a time, so I didn't spare any of the strips I made. When I finished it was just turning dark, and the silence fell soon after. Sleep didn't come for the second night, and I feared that this would become a habit in the next few weeks. I didn't know how long it had been when the silence was broken by the soft shuffling of my bunkmate standing up. There was a moment when my heart lodged in my throat, and I thought he was going to kill me with no witnesses to see, but it dropped back when I heard him grumble with displeasure. "Work," he hissed in frustration.

Whatever he was doing was not going well and it was testing his already short fuse.

_Why should I care_, I wondered, scowling into the darkness where I could see his silhouette swaying. He wasn't someone who deserved my pity or assistance, wasn't someone who had any right to the grace of humanity. _He saved you, you ungrateful shit_, my conscience berated me in reply, an unneeded reminder that I owed him a great deal. Against all my better judgement I stepped out on a limb and risked my neck. "Do you need help with something?" My voice was meek, more feminine than I had intended, and it echoed softly against the smooth walls and floor.

There was an abrupt stop to the rustling he'd been making and the emptiness crashed back in. He wouldn't want my help. What was I thinking? He could barely stand me. I had just started laying back down to try and fight my way to sleep when I heard him mumble something. He had a really bad habit of talking to himself when someone addressed him. "What?" I asked, startled at his attempt to reply.

"No, but..." he hung onto whatever words he wanted to say after, the quiet of the night a palpable creature between us. The trepidation was enough to make me let the situation go, and I lay on my bed wondering what he could be doing that caused him to be so frustrated.

"You don't have to explain." My reassurance would probably do little, but it was the thought that counted, right? Sleep came on surprisingly fast after that, and if he made any comment after mine I had missed it.

My dreams were vivid this time, showing me what should be happening right now in Gotham while I rotted in this prison. Ra's Al Ghul would be sending some of his best infiltrators in, manipulating a series of cartels into mass producing low cost drugs to crush the economy. It was the last effort on his part before resorting to other, more outright means. I watched the city swallow itself, drowning the entire population in poverty. Even though it was only a dream, the bitter taste of victory lingered when I awoke the next morning. It even surpassed the realization that again, this pit was a reality and I was in a cell with a beast of a man who spoke so little.

I sat up and stretched, shaking the stillness of sleep from my bones. "Good morning," I offered, watching him tense slightly. Was that surprise he felt? "Don't be so shocked I said it first. I adjust quickly to new surroundings and though this is a bit more permanent than I'd have hoped," I turned my palms to the ceiling, "it is ultimately no different."

* * *

Bane had struggled last night trying to put his back brace on. Sleep brought terrible waves of pain from the scars on his spine until he finally acquiesced to it and went to put on the poorly made support. In the dark it proved difficult to do, even with his trained eyes and knowing fingers. The loop that held the brace to his back, keeping it straight, was being unduly difficult. "Work," he cursed to himself aloud, fumbling terribly with the leather that balked under his fingers.

From the cot that rested next to him, he heard the most quiet of whispers. "Do you need help with something?" Her voice was soft and slightly shaky; she was afraid of making him angry. The way her voice died as it reached his ears was an indication of such. He didn't know to to respond to the question, to be honest. No one had offered him help in the two and a half decades he'd been down here, only given him the tools to help himself. He exhaled and mouthed the word "yes", but she did not hear him clearly. "What?" she probed, hope and interest blooming.

Stricken with the revulsion of seeming weak, he was glad she did not hear him the first time. "No, but..." was all he could manage before the walls of his mind crushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth. He thought hard on what to say and was starting to form a statement when his defenses stopped him a second time. It was confounding him, trying to situate himself to where he could teach her the ways of the Pit while still retaining his hardened exterior. Already the prisoners were questioning him, angry that he took all the spoils of the new inmate for himself. If only they knew exactly how much the person was worth, they'd riot and kill him.

"You don't have to explain," she murmured after he couldn't finish his sentence. Relief washed over him that she was not going to press him to finish, and the feeling unsettled him. When had he become tense regarding her approval or disapproval? Irritation set in because he was losing control. The realization that his body was responding to the presence of a woman regardless on whether he wanted it to or not was cause enough for him to snap her neck right now. She said no more after her last comment and he heard the deep sigh of sleep escape not too much later. He could kill her now while she was at peace and save her the hopelessness of a life in hell.

Instead, he spent the next two hours in tired frustration, trying desperately to put his back brace on correctly. By sunrise it was too late to sleep, and the light helped to make his fingers work. _Just in time to start my calisthenics_, he thought dryly, not looking forward to exercise without sleep. He slipped into his robe to keep from letting his cellmate see the brace in full, and to the ground he went, starting with a 300 rep string of push ups. He was just finishing number 276 when his cell-mate greeted him.

"Good morning." Her voice was oddly confident and sweet. Too sweet for the hell on Earth they were in. _277, 278,279,_ he reminded himself, almost to his goal for the day. She must have seen his slight reaction and felt an explanation was necessary because she took a breath and continued. "Don't be so shocked I said it first. I adjust quickly to new surroundings and though this is a bit more permanent than I'd have hoped," her clothing rustled with a gesture she made behind him, "it is ultimately no different."


	10. Tohaadii

Another two months passed by with scant events worth note, though Bane did come to know his companion a bit more. They had broached the idea of sparring two weeks after she unwrapped her wrists, and he had accepted. She lost each of the three times they tried for the day, but for every one that passed, her endurance was the only thing stopping her from winning. The skill she possessed surprised Bane, and it was invigorating to have someone of equal prowess to pit himself against. Neither of them wanted to break the other in their mock battles, and instead strove to deflect and evade. This was the complete opposite of the rules of the challenges issued in the prison, but Bane saw that the usefulness in evasion was more for outside the _tohaadii_.

As if by fate, tomorrow Bane would compete against a man in the pool at the base of the pit. The antagonizer had come by yesterday in the midst of his match with his cellmate, and challenged him to a fight where the winner walked away with his life and anything the loser had in his cell. Bane had almost broke the man when he issued the challenge, but that would incite the wrath of everyone else in the prison. That was the last thing either of them needed. Upon a brief examination of the company the would-be enemy had, it became clear that he was challenging him simply to get to the woman. The suspicions had been going around about the nature of her importance since Bane had snapped on a group of men for loitering near his cell a month ago, and they would do anything to find out more.

Bane felt he was lucky to be challenged after so much training with his cellmate. His opponent was going to be difficult to defeat, and even better was the fact that he was going to lose his life because his friends had manipulated him into stepping on the wrong toes. Whatever spoils that came from the fight would just be a bonus. Showing the whole prison exactly how wrong they were to poke the sleeping demon was enough of a victory for him.

* * *

I had opposed the idea of the fight the moment my celly had explained what happened. The prisoner whose hand I broke a while back had blatantly made some friends over the past few months and now he wanted to get revenge. He'd enlisted the help of a brutish man with a reputation of "never losing" and I couldn't help but doubt whether or not my friend would win with that hanging over the fight. The inmate who was going to confront my bunkmate wasn't intelligent by any means; he'd threatened the inhabitants two cells down thinking it was us and had to be pointed to the right enemy by the cripple I wounded. "Tohaadii," he said dimly and pointed at my companion who had paid them no mind until then, deflecting each thrust of my hands to break his concentration.

He'd explained to me the first time I heard the chant that tohaadii roughly meant "to fight" or "to challenge" and it was the term the whole prison used whether they spoke Arabic or not. I scowled and shook my head when he told me he would accept, but he left me with no room to argue. "I will fight," he stated, halting my attempts to convince him otherwise. "If I refuse, they will riot and break in anyway." He sighed and ran his hands over the smooth skin of his scalp, piecing together the best way to explain the politics of the Pit to me. "Their goal is you. You have been an enigma since I took you away from them without the proper initiation. As man or woman you have accumulated value and are now an item to kill over."

It made sense in that way, but it didn't make me feel any better. I was strong enough to fight my own battles, I didn't need my friend to fight them for me. "It is not that simple," he growled when I said as much. "I claimed you when I brought you in here. You are my..." he cut himself short, hanging onto a word he was unsure I'd like. The pause was brief, but when he said it he was right to think about its meaning. "Territory. For lack of a better word." That was even worse a way to try and rationalize the situation, but I let the topic go. He had made his choice and would not budge so I would save us both the headache.

Tonight we sat in silence when he brought dinner late. I had only taken one bite before the lump of guilt forced me to stop. _How can you eat knowing he could die tomorrow defending you_? My conscience was raging with the force of a bear, unwilling to leave me in peace. After deliberating on it for a handful of minutes I slid my share of food over to my cellmate and sighed. "If you're going to fight, in part, for me, the least I can do is thank you," I commented wryly when he looked at me with quizzical eyes.

He let out a huff of breath that danced dangerously close to a laugh and ate it without question. When he'd nearly finished I was on the verge of exploding. He could die tomorrow and it would be the end of me soon after. I deserved to know his name, but even more... He deserved to know the name of the person he was defending. I mumbled my name under my breath, as if to test how it sounded after such a long time. He slowed his eating when he saw me struggling, watching my every move with those insightful eyes of his. He was the one who said things so no one could hear, so it was out of character for me to mimic the action.

I said my name again, louder this time, and he froze.

The only sound between us was the clattering of his empty bowl on the stone floor in front of him.

I didn't know what to expect when I told him my name, honestly. Was I going to get a smile and a name to put to his face? I couldn't fool myself into believing that. I was _not_ expecting the response he gave, though. Priceless. I couldn't put a tag on the different expressions his features contorted into trying to make sense of the words I'd said. As much as I felt embarrassed for putting him off like that, it was empowering to see I could still knock him off kilter. He had grown used to the comfortable silence we shared and I had endured the namelessness that remained to us. I didn't like it, but I had pushed it out of my mind for a while, thinking he'd be forthcoming once I'd proved trustworthy. With him fighting in the morning, though, and the prospect of death clinging to the air like... Well, death- I couldn't just let him face that without giving him some kind of reason besides obligation.

He stared at me endlessly, the tendrils of chocolate and forest green dancing in his irises like daggers. I squirmed uncomfortably. "What?"

He had been looking at me like that for the better part of ten minutes now, and I didn't want to waste anymore time waiting for a reply. He didn't say anything. It looked like I had shorted out his defence mechanisms with the knowledge that I wasn't just a warm body. His whole presence was locked in place, rigid and appearing almost chiseled out of skin-colored marble. The only life to him was the swirling emotions in his hazel eyes. He released a breath he'd been holding and pulled his gaze away from me, scooping the bowl back up absently. I could let him stay like this, stuck in a myriad of thoughts, but it just seemed cruel after knowing what tomorrow brought. I rose with him and put a hand to his robed chest, ignoring the foreign resistance I met underneath the cloth. "Hey, stop. Say something."

His glowering expression pinned me in place again, darting back and forth between my left and right eyes. He was searching for something in me, a way out of my confrontation perhaps. He pushed my hand away, but didn't move otherwise, intent on searching my soul in the best way he could. We stood there until the light faded and darkness consumed us, and only then did he react. His hands were rough, but they held no danger when he pressed them to my shoulders and moved me out of his path. A pang of regret ensnared me, but I wasn't going to make the situation any worse than I already had. He lay down in his cot, leaving me to stand there in the dark. _You're an idiot, _my internal voice sneered and I shamefully agreed. I only made the situation worse. I stood in place for a long time before I heard the slow snoring of him sleeping. Only when I was sure he wasn't faking it did I move from where he set me.

Sleep would not come to me with the knots of guilt that laced my belly. I leaned against the side of his cot and sighed, only half listening to the snores that rumbled in his chest. My mind was occupying most of my attention, throwing questions at me relentlessly. How could I have been so stupid? Almost six months in here had deprived me of the mindset that everyone was an enemy, which confused the logical side of my brain. It made no clear sense. Everyone was an enemy down here, I should know this. _Everyone, _another part of me whispered, _except him. This place is meant to foster hope and crush it. Over and over._ The realization stopped all other thoughts in their tracks. It was true! My compatriot had said as much early on, but I had swept the knowledge aside.

Bile rose in my throat. I was losing my grip on all of the training I'd been through, falling victim to the pettiness of _hope._ The bile fought for my attention and would have won had a sound not caught my ear over the snoring. My girthy friend was groaning and shifting in his sleep, dismayed by whatever was plaguing him in his dreams. I'd heard him talk and grunt many times before, but the words had never been as clear as they were now. "Ssss... Stop..." At first this was all he could say, but the dream was unforgiving. "Nnnghhh... Can't die now..." His voice was strained, as if the pain of death was truly wracking his body. The sound of fabric bunching and teeth clenching met my ears and I almost woke him up. I already had my hand hovering over his shoulder when a voice in my head stopped me short.

The last person he'd want to see was me, especially when he was just rousing from the throes of a nightmare. The sigh was out of my lips before I could stop it, and I sat back down at the side of his bed, content to wait out the night until it was time for him to fight.


	11. Across the Battlefield

_He was in the pit, toe to toe with Zahid, the great oaf that had issued the tohaadii. The rise and fall of voices around them sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was going to win. There was no choice in that. By unspoken word the fight had started, all eyes watching, waiting. Bane tensed, following the rule of letting the challenger land the first hit, and felt Zahid's knuckles collide with his jaw. Blood welled up inside his mouth, but it was free game now. He spat the clot of blood at his opposer and parried the second blow, knocking the assailant's guard aside. With his face and chest open to attack, Bane lunged and shoved his fist into his throat._

_Zahid stumbled back, choking on the air his body denied him. Was this really all the man had to offer? He fell to his knees before Bane and clutched at the swollen apple of his neck. The fight was over before it had begun. But Bane's arrogance cost him the lucidity of battle, and Zahid took advantage. Zahid stuffed the pain of his throat out of the way and swiped his hands out, striking Bane in the face again and again. Bane tried to block the flurry of blows, but Zahid bore down on him with too much strength, sending him likewise to his knees. The bones in Zahid's hands crunched against Bane's skull as he tried to cover himself from attack. The back of his head was the focal point now, sending unimaginable knives into his eyes, neck, and jaw. Even with his dulled sense of pain the blows stung terribly and the darkness of defeat started to creep in. "No, stop..." he tried to scream, but his voice died under the water as Zahid cast him onto his stomach._

_If he died here, Melisande, Talia, and that damned woman would be doomed to a worse fate. "I can't die now!" he screamed underwater. But even with his adamance to cling to life, the void of death swam up to take him. The last he remembered was the sickening crunch of Zahid's foot driving through his skull and he only thought of the failure he'd become in death._

His eyes parted abruptly, throwing him into reality. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and coated the length of his body. Psychology was a tentative and relative thing from person to person, but Bane knew what the dream meant to him. That bitch of a cellmate had made him care, and he _feared _for his life. _Feared _to lose. Fear cuts deeper than swords and his bunkmate was wielding the weapon. Dismayed by the emotion that seeped through his defenses, he sat up and ran his hands over his scalp. His only choice was to kill the emotions or be killed by Zahid's fists. But, could he kill her? Could Bane strangle her, watch the spark of life die in her vibrant eyes? Would it be possible for him to withstand the betrayal that would be in those depths, betrayal that she'd trusted him?

Even as his mind engrossed his attention with the proposal of disposing of her, he caught the sight of something pathetically insightful. She had passed out in the fetal position next to his bed, head resting on his cot atop her arm. _The dim-wit,_ he chastised mentally, frowning. The insult wasn't heartfelt, nor was it a logical conclusion to jump to. She had expressed a sense of respect to him by saying her name first. More surprising was the fact that she didn't press him for his own. The longer he put his mind to the conundrum, the more convinced he was to just let it go. There was nothing he could to except wipe her from the face of the earth and somehow... The idea of it felt repulsive. He would just have to win today. Winning was easier than feeling.

He stood up, resolve setting in. The sooner he got the fight over with, the sooner he could address the problem sleeping at his feet. She didn't budge thankfully, and when he exited the cell, she remained. "Don't die..." she whispered cryptically, immersed in dreams. She had a habit of being inconveniently perceptive in her sleep, and this would be no different, it seemed. He locked the gate and threw the key to her feet. A last ditch effort to keep her safe should he lose. At least _she_ could defend herself. He couldn't think the same of Melisande and Talia. They were hidden, though, and with luck Vinen and Ayham wouldn't sell the key for supplies.

Zahid was waiting in the pit when he turned away from his cell one last time. "Come. Face your doom, Bane," he crooned in thick Moroccan Arabic, the listlessness in his eyes shimmering from under his heavy brow. He looked to be invested in something else despite his jab, far away from where the fight would take place. Bane gave no indication he heard the goading, though, taking his time as he descended. Unnerving the enemy by impatience was the first step in victory. The bigger man stirred with the lack of insightfulness, rubbing his hands together and dancing from one foot to the other with fevered temper. "You only prolong your death, you motherless skirt-shaker." Zahid was losing the battle before he'd landed the first punch, it appeared. _Good_.

"_Tohaadii, tohaadii..."_ The chant had been taken up, ushering the prison residents from their hovels. One by one they lined the stairs and alcoves, joining their voices with the others. _Clang-clang-clang!_ The inmates held their weapons, cups, and utensils, smacking them against any hard surface to bring the chant to a head. Zahid barked along with them, sweat beading on his brow as the impatience caused him to chomp at the bit. Bane shot his cell one last look before stepping into the stomping ground.

_She stood alone outside of the cell, forgotten amongst the seas of men. The robe and hood she wore covered her face, but her eyes stood out, saddened and betrayed. She looked right into him, piercing optics touching his soul for the briefest of moments. The brushing of their beings had been the most intimate of encounters he had, and the adrenaline died in his veins with the single tear that threatened to fall onto her cheek. She held her left hand up forlornly, balled into a fist. She would not turn away from this. She would watch him, win or lose._

_She respects me_, he thought bitterly, tearing his gaze away from her before he gave her away. "The fear weighs you down, Bane," Zahid snarled, smiling as if he'd already won the fight. Bane opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes caught sight of Melisande and Talia. His breath caught. What more could his conscience be tortured with? They both mouthed "_Mawla"_, raising their fists in the same likeness of his cellmate, and the knowledge was even more rotten in his mouth. They had seen each other from across the pit. He forced his eyes down and steeled himself.

"We will see, Zahid," came his simple reply. And like that, it began. The chants swirled around them as Zahid wasted no time to use his first blow honor. The attack was a low jab to the ribs and Bane let it glance off his skin like the water lapping at his knees. His enemy was not the bright and foreboding man his dreams had molded. This man was strong, but agonizingly slow and terribly dumb. He left his face open while he attempted to guard his fragile chest and Bane seized the day. His fist shot out lightning fast and collided with Zahid's face, caving in his nose cavity and knocking a few teeth loose.

His enemy stumbled onto his backside, stunned and reeling. "You... Will not get the best of me again, man-fucker," Zahid snarled, apparently referencing Bane's companion. The insult would have jostled any other prisoner, but Bane was too focused on exploiting his words. He lashed out and silenced Zahid, smashing his knuckles into Zahid's face again and again. He tried to block the whirlwind of attacks, but Bane anticipated that. His hands dove away from the rising defenses, crushing ribs and bruising internal organs. Zahid was crumbling underneath the weight of the damage, and Bane delivered the final blow.

He gripped Zahid's head in his hands and twisted violently, dropping the corpse into the waters. "Deshi basara, Zahid," Bane mumbled, giving him the respect of last words. No one would weep for his demise, but everyone would think again before challenging Bane to the tohaadii.


	12. Consumed By Darkness

My dreams were cryptic in their meaning, flashing subtle images that were nice enough to warrant a groan when they spat me into reality without regard. I cracked my eyes just in time to glimpse my cellmate descending the stairs outside our cage. For a moment I couldn't tell what was going on. The grogginess of sleep caked my mind unfailingly, hampering my senses with the haze of unknowing. Then the memories slid into place, turning the wheels in my head and I hastened to my feet to stop him. _"Tohaadii, tohaadii,"_ the prison whispered at first, the first risers taking note of the two combatants' descent. I hissed a string of curses and looked around for anything that would help me unlock the door. A clattering at my feet drew my attention and I was startled to see the key. _He left it to protect me even in death_, I was amazed to find. My heart and stomach lurched with guilt and anger. I was not going to miss watching the fight, not with Death looming all around us and our two lives hanging in the balance.

The Pit was starting to pulse with the word now. _"To-haa-dii! To-haa-dii!"_ each new inmate roused with the tide of voices and added his own to the clamor. The chant rose like a wave, bubbling up into its climax and demanding the challenge be taken up. I rushed to the end of my cell, hastily checking to see if anyone was nearby, but the whole prison had filled every nook and crevice closest to the fight. It was at my discretion now. I smashed the key into the locking mechanism and turned the rusty tumblers into place. _Free!_ I was _free_ of the cage for the first time since being put there those many months ago. I wouldn't risk being seen down below, so I stood at the guard-rail by my cell, peering down to where my friend had disappeared to. As I looked over the empty cells ahead of me, I gasped as I fell upon two people still in their cage. A woman and a child, garbed in the same robes, looked across the pit and stared directly at me. A sense of knowing passed between us and I rose my fist. They did not move for a long moment, but then both raised their own and cast their eyes down to the fight.

Bitterness bit into my heart as I saw him near the bottom. If he died for me, I would never forgive either of us for the loss. I choked on the knotted ball of rage and betrayal and nearly started to cry, but I couldn't bring myself to shed the tears. Weakness would not be an admirable trait and my bunkmate would not relish in the thought. I lifted my hand higher, that action being as close as I could come to chanting along with the rest. He looked up at me then, searching for the empty space that would have been where I stood now. His eyes crinkled into slits, but his body betrayed no sign of anger. He relaxed and looked at me solemnly, resigned to whatever fate awaited him.

As he turned to address his opposition, I stuffed my own emotions aside and watched with the calculating eye of a trained artist. I could stand to learn a few things about the methods these people used, but most of all of the man who had been my only friend here in since my imprisonment. He carried himself with a good center of gravity, not weighted by the upper body heaviness that the loping moron across him had. The wave of voices came crashing to a halt when my salvation (or damnation) stepped into the pool and my pulse all but stopped in its tracks. _Here we go_, I dreaded to admit. The challenger had the honor of first attack, and neither party could dodge a hit, only attempt to block and endure. The two exchanged harsh words in their foreign tongue and then the low brow male leaped into action. His charge was full of energy, but his aim had been poor. My cellmate stood there and let the glancing blow bounce off his ribs before taking up the offensive stance of a seasoned fighter.

The display of power was a terrible sight to behold. He pressed down on the bigger man, disregarding the failed attempt at a block and burying the flat of his fist into his face. The crunch of bones shattering was audible in the bated silence, even from this height. I grimaced at the noise but cheered inside for the flawless blow my friend had landed. The larger man had a hard time forming a guard against a honed fighter like him and fell to his rear from the shock of the attack. Though he snarled what seemed to be an insult, my ally was not enticed by it like the lesser beings around. Before he could rise to his feet, my celly resumed his barrage, heedlessly landing punch after punch in the downed man's face.

I would have pitied the dying idiot, but he was owed none from the history that I'd been told two nights previous. The way he was being mutilated was less than he deserved, and I let my gaze harden as the foul man crumpled into a bloody mass of red and brown flesh. When his face had been thoroughly bloodied and the end was hanging in the air, my companion reached out with measured hands and twisted the loser's head mercilessly. The sound of bones grinding and detaching was drowned out by the sound of the water lapping, trying to consume the corpse of the fighter who'd lost. The quickness of the challenge would not placate the whole prison's silence and sooner or later, I realized, there would be another to call upon my friend for the _tohaadii_.

My ally had won without the slightest problem. Suddenly I felt very stupid for being so worried over the situation. I would surely hear no end to it when he came back with the flippant moments of dry sarcasm he was prone to. Feet started shuffling back up the stairs and voices started to hum softly with idle chatter. The inmates didn't appear to have the capacity to be angry so early in the morning which saved my cellmate a lot of grief. But, people were starting to find their way towards my cell, and I had to make an escape back to it or they'd find me. I spared one last glance to the woman and child, waving, and then slipped back into the confines of the bars and sat down on my cot, thoughts buzzing. What would my bunkmate say since he'd won? He could be smug about his victory, rubbing my nose into the useless worry I'd been exuding, but rudeness didn't seem like his kind of taste. There was no more time to dwell on possibilities now that the champion stood at the gate of our cell expectantly. I couldn't raise my eyes to meet his, and he did not push me to do so. He would wait there for as long as it took, out of respect and something more I could not place.

I wouldn't let him stand there forever, though, so after a shaky breath I stood and let him in, wordlessly handing him the key. He pocketed it into the folds of his undergarments and then focused his attention on me. I tried to raise my eyes to his, but found my body would not comply. Was I shamed like a dog getting caught pissing in the house? His feet shuffled forward and I found that I was being pushed back towards where our terrible excuse of a washroom was. The thorns of anticipation prickled in my side. Was he finally going to show his true colors, that he was no different than the rapists outside the gate? I doubted it somewhere in the pit of my stomach, but the readiness to defend myself stayed just in case. We passed through the threshold and went behind the ragged cloth divider to where no searching eyes could see. His whole body was rigid with the after-effects of adrenaline, but there was no malice in his eyes when I finally looked up. He just looked determined and stricken with some alien emotion I couldn't identify.

"Why did you do that?" he finally managed through clenched teeth. I could tell that wasn't what he wanted to ask, but was still trying to put the real question to words.

"Why did I do what? Tell you my name?" It was a rhetorical rebuttal, so I persisted before he could snap at me. "I told you because you deserved to know who you could have died because of. I was not going to let you go down there with the chance that you'd pass on and not give my name to whatever deities that await after death. That would be just plain rude of you, you know?" My calm outer appearance belied the feral wolf storming about in circles inside my gut, hackles raised and ready to lash out if threatened. No one would see what would happen if he decided to beat me bloody (not that anyone here cared). Somehow, the wariness I felt when I first was abandoned here came back, and I could not sarcastically swagger about until it went away like the last time.

He looked at me with precise contempt, unamused with my dumb excuse for wit. "You make me weak," he stated simply, pausing for a lengthy moment so I could soak up the hate that blazed over his carved features. After he was satisfied with the wounded expression on my own face, he elaborated. "I've had to protect the sanctity of the hole between your legs and the one you used to damn me with since the second you arrived. Why should I not kill you now and save us both the trouble?"

Was he serious? Of all the illogical, untimely... I hardened my stare and stepped forward, shoving my face as close to his as I could with how tall he was, and then I tore his question apart, bit by unreasonable bit. "First off, asshole, _you _were the one who played prince and swept me away from the pack of rats who call this place home. _You_ were the one who recruited the doctors to fix my wounds, you chopped my hair, gave me the rations of food, and _you _told me about the culture of this place. It was _your choice,_ bub." At this point my face felt afire, the heat of my blood tinting my pale complexion a keen pink of rage. I shoved a finger into his chest pointedly, pushing him back with every exaggeration of speech. "I could have found a way to manage out there, but _you _were the one with the conscience. Why should I _not_ tell everyone in here that I'm a woman and let them kill us both? Save _you _the trouble?" My words were venom incarnate, seeping into his brain with cool, calculated exactitude.

He had almost done me in the moment I stepped into his personal space, the twitch of honed instinctual defenses catching the corner of my eye. It was his hands that desired to wring the life out of my neck. He'd never had someone tell him off without a knife to his belly, it seemed. The restraint was there, though, if not infinitesimal. The dark lines of a deep grimace splintered across his face, but he held his tongue for a very long time. So long, in fact, that I gave in to it and snapped, "Well? Should I scream at the top of my lungs now or-" My provocative statement was cut short by a hailstorm of pain and then there was darkness.

* * *

Bane had enough of her being heretically right. Before she could barb him anymore and risk being overheard, he delivered an incapacitating strike to her vulnerable middle. "You will not kill me after what I did for you today," he snarled, catching her as she blacked out and hefting her weight over his shoulder. She could do with some time to herself, and it was as good excuse as any for him to escape as well. Setting her down in her bed not too gently, he abandoned her for the rest of the day. He locked the gate, hid the key out of sight from enemy and ally, and found solace in crushing the skulls of the people who so much as passed by him wrong.


	13. Premonitions

**Author's Note: I am sincerely sorry to all of you who have been with me until now. I took a long break between updates to ensure that the revisions were complete. I have thoroughly ironed out the beginning of this story. Most of the new material is actually earlier on than this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Rate, review, follow and fave, dearies.**

_My head throbbed with every heartbeat and my abdominal muscles constricted with voracious ferocity. I couldn't manage to open my eyes without the radiance of late afternoon blistering my eyes. Where was I? Sitting up and looking around offered me no answer, as the image I saw was outlandish. I saw the whole expanse of a city from the most lavish of high-rise offices. Was this... No. It couldn't be. In my denial of the obvious I'd drowned out my surroundings, but the murmuring of insistent voices finally made me turn to see the source. "I still don't see the need for a board meeting for the energy project." An aged man with a darker skin tone kept in languid step with a tan colored woman who held an air of authority about her._

_The Arab missus shook her head. "Bruce got a lot of things right. Keeping the board in the dark wasn't one of them," she admonished, voice rushed but not unkind. I felt like I knew these people, as if they were of importance to me and my values. I tried to fixate on that, but the scene unfolding around me was too vivid and too interesting to avoid for long. The two associates had been so engrossed in addressing each other that when they entered the room completely, it was the voice of a masked man who brought them to heel._

"_How good of you to join us, Chair, President," he announced, sickening intent lilting at the end of the phrase. "All I need now is one more one ordinary member." The man's voice seemed familiar, but the garbled way his words came through barred my mind from deciphering the sense of deja vu. "Mr. Fox, would you like to nominate?" The imposing man gestured to a long table where a handful of elderly business-men sat._

_Before either of the two could reply, one of the members of the board rose and elected himself. Their captor seemed content with the ease in which the tide of the room turned in his favor, so when the man of darker complexion asked, "Where are you taking us?" he didn't even acknowledge the question, just strode past and let his hired guns do the work._

_I tried to follow them to see what would happen to them next but my feet were stuck in place. "Damn it," I cursed affably, "move!" Suddenly the world was spinning and the swirls of color were swallowed by a black hole. I remained in this lucid state of purgatory for some time before a world started to form around me again. This place was more familiar than the last, rusty bars and poorly constructed beds littering cell after cell in a dank and dark place. The criminals of mass genocide would not dare send their people into this place, for this was the end of hope for all who were sentenced here. The Pit constructed itself like a puzzle in my view, finally stopping when my nearest surroundings solidified._

_I was not in the only cell I recognized; instead, the cage I was placed in this time was connected with its neighbor, and four men occupied the pair of rooms. Two were of Arabic descent, it was plain in their molded faces, but the other couple closest to me were European or something of a fairer ilk. One was visibly crippled, lying on a lumpy and deformed cot, barely conscious. The other crouched next to him, not out of kindness, but out of cruel pity. "Why didn't you just..." the wounded male groaned, fumbling to get his tongue to work, "kill me?"_

_The same mechanic voice trilled with the sound of victory. "You don't fear death... You welcome it. Your punishment must be more severe." He sounded knowing, as if cursing him to this place was the worst fate for this broken man. And it was, if he deserved to agonize in life rather than taste the freedom of death. I watched them both with a sick sense of interest, huddled as far into the corner as possible._

"_Torture?" the bedridden one choked out, terror and defiance swimming in his eyes all at once._

_The grin of the kneeling companion was visible, even through the mask. "Yes. But not of your body..." he turned his gaze down at his prisoner, "Of your soul." Chills ran down the length of my spine with the last word. Where was I? What part of the prison was this? The would-be patient mimicked my thoughts precisely and his opposer elaborated with gusto. "Home, where I learned the truth about despair, as will you." He stood up and looked outside of the cell, reflecting on his own past. "There's a reason why this prison is the worst hell on earth... Hope. Every man who has ventured here over the centuries has looked up to the light and imagined climbing to freedom. So easy... So simple..."_

_He turned back on his one man audience and sat at the foot of the bed. "And like shipwrecked men turning to sea water from uncontrollable thirst, many have died trying. I learned here that there can be no true despair without hope." His speech never wavered in its quiet intensity, never once hinting that his words were anything but finality. "So, as I terrorize Gotham, I will feed its people hope to poison their souls. I will let them believe they can survive so that you can watch them clamoring over each other to stay in the sun." His eyes shifted between the man he addressed and the light that poured in from the mouth at the top of the pit. "You can watch me torture an entire city and when you have truly understood the depth of your failure, we will fulfill Ra's al Ghul's destiny..." he paused then, for the briefest of moments, and looked right into my soul. The eyes were immediately recognized in my head, but my conscience refused to tell me true. "We will destroy Gotham and then, when it is done and Gotham is ashes..." the last of his words struck like a hammer blow, "then you have my permission to die."_

_The deformed man in the mask rose then, pressing down on the cripple and tearing a gasp of bone breaking pain from his lips. And as the man who gave his terrible prophecy left him to die, the dream ended._

I was awake now, gasping for air in the cold pitch of night, retching my minute amount of stomach contents onto the floor beside my bed. The heaves rocked my body into submission until I felt as if I would become the cripple in my dream, writhing in futility against the hard fibers of my bed. Thankfully the convulsions subsided, and I could start to remember what had happened before I'd been drowned in the obscure visions of my dream world.


	14. Strings Attached to the Seeds of Hope

**Author's Note: A whole chapter in Bane's point of view, although in third person. These moments with Talia bring me a bit of joy, since we get to see the soft side of Bane that the movie only hinted at. Rate, review, follow and favorite! Seriously! Reviews are the inspiration that keep me going.**

Bane ruffled the short, dark locks that framed Talia's cherub face. She had the wavy hair and auburn eyes of her mother, but her pale complexion was a combined result of her father's genes, and the sunlight she'd been deprived of since birth. She danced about his legs in her childish stupor, chanting, "Mawla beat Zahid! Mawla beat Zahid!" Her excited nature belied the seriousness of the situation, but Bane could not help the smile that spread across his cheeks. In front of him, however, was a stone-faced Melisande. She was not pleased in the least.

"You have been keeping things from me, Bane," she pointed out, a lilting sense of irritability hanging over each of her words. "Tell me about that fair skinned companion of yours that Talia and I saw."

At the mention of his cellmate, Talia stopped her parading and looked up at both Bane and her mother. "That was a lady, wasn't it, Ommah?" she asked perceptively. She turned her gaze on Bane with a new sense of vigor. "Mawla, I want to meet her. Tell me about-" Talia's excitement was cut short by Bane putting a finger to her lips.

"Child, please. Watch what you say. Girls are not welcome here, remember? Don't get your mother in trouble, or yourself. Let your Ommah and I speak before you go and try to worm your wants into any alignment." Bane's voice was strained, a mixture of hasty fear and anger along with concern and care turning his cautionary response into a plea. Talia stared at him with searching eyes, but nodded and said no more. She remained aglow with energy and resumed her bouncing about his feet, albeit with silent joy rather than her outbursts as previous. Melisande frowned but said nothing in regards to Bane's handling of the child, and ushered him to sit with her on the floor of her cell.

He obliged her invitation and sat in the half lotus position, a position that helped alleviate some of his muscle tension. When they had shared a long moment of silence and Talia had settled into Bane's lap for comfort, Melisande broke the quiet. "Was she the one who drew the picture you brought?" she asked in a hushed voice, casting her eyes back and forth between Bane and the men who passed outside of the cell ahead of theirs. When he nodded in confirmation, Melisande's eyes narrowed. "I explained to you that there was significance to the artwork, but I am forced to wonder now... Has she spoken to you about Ra's?"

Bane shook his head this time. He had not been the type to ask questions, nor was his cellmate a forthcoming creature. It was better that way, or so he thought until now. A web of intricate strings seemed to be dangling in the Pit as of recent, and it made the scar at the back of his neck itch. Melisande watched him, but made no comment regarding his nervous habit. "She was either present during an initiation, or..." she paused momentarily, "she is one of the League of Shadows. Why she is here, I cannot say, but Bane, be careful. My husband's order is renowned for their tenacity and lack of fear."

Bane scoffed. "If her skills are any testament to their prowess, then I have nothing to worry about. I have bested her twice." The look Melisande gave him was disproving and unconvinced. "Shall I issue the _tohaadii_ and prove my point, Melisande? She must be the weakest of your husband's allies, or she has lost much of her skill since being here. In either case I have beaten her both times she attempted to thwart my opposition."

Talia stirred in his lap then, turning about so she could hug him about his thick neck. "Mawla is strongest fighter in the whole world, Ommah. Don't be mean to him." Her eyes were infant daggers towards Melisande, but the seriousness was lost over Bane's raucous laughter. He heaved with the sheer profundity of the toddler's words and fell prey to a fit of cacophonous mirth. Tears pricked his eyes as he gasped for breath. Melisande smirked at first, but before long she was laughing, too. In the space between them, a scowling and unamused Talia crossed her arms and pouted, having clambered out of Bane's lap to put distance between herself and the two adults who didn't take her seriously.

When they both noted the tears of hurt pooling in the child's eyes, they stopped laughing and coerced her back. "Come now, Talia," Melisande soothed, "we were not laughing at you. You just..." Talia's mother was at a loss for words.

"You could not have been more truthful. It just surprised us," Bane finished, smiling and offering his hand out to the little one. Talia glared at his hand for a moment, but then smiled and took it, dancing back into his lap.

"It's okay," she mused. With her small tantrum placated, she set her attention on the two doctors who were tending the corpse of Zahid, wrapping him in linen designated for the dead. She began to hum a song of longing and mourning, though the child did not grasp the enormity of it.

Bane ignored the ministrations of the medicine men and turned to Melisande. "I will find out what I can, but until I can put trust in her, this ally of your husband will not leave my cell, nor will I escort her here until she soothes the prisoners and fights one of them to the death. Only then will it be safe for her to come here, _after_ I validate her trustworthiness." There was no room for arguing, and Melisande nodded with grim amusement.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mawla," she said wryly. He noted the sarcastic but sincere term of endearment and grinned back at her with the same black humor, then bid both mother and daughter farewell. Talia wailed in silence when he locked the gate behind him, tears streaming unbidden from her eyes. She did not want him to leave so soon, and truth be told, he did not want to either. But, he had to find out about his cellmate, and the sooner he did, the sooner the convoluted mystery surrounding her and Melisande would be clear.

Vinen stopped him just as he was about to leave. The doctor's shaking hands were cool to the touch, worn smooth by years of washing and sanitizing. His eyes held the tiny dots of an opium high, and Bane's demeanor took a dark turn. "Young one," he rasped in Arabic with his aged and gravelly voice, "you need to slow your frequency here. Some of the other inmates are starting to look longer than they should." Even in the drugged torpor, the doctor was perceptive as ever. Bane took note of his words and nodded. He would wait a few days before his next visit.

With a soft shake of the doctor's right hand, he left Vinen to his addiction, giving Ayham a slight inclination in farewell so as not to offend. The assistant muttered a curse as he dropped the linen, but grunted his goodbye as well. Bane turned to his next task before returning to his cell: food. Since he had won the formal challenge, he earned the spoils of whatever Zahid had in his cell, and surely he had something Bane could peddle to the other inmates. The idiot had hidden his key just like Bane, but his hiding place was so obvious that it only took three attempts for him to locate the rusty appendage, which was hidden behind a loose brick three paces from Zahid's cell. Inside the small cage was a single cot, two musty cardboard boxes, and... Bane's face broke into a sinister grin of triumph as his eyes fell upon something priceless.

_The stupid oaf wasn't so stupid after all!_ A handful of terracotta planters were tucked into the dark shadows of the farthest reaches of his cell, filled with rich soil and small seedlings of some sort. He couldn't tell what they were without further study, but he had little time for that now. Bane scooped up the fist-sized planters in his arms and placed them carefully inside the cardboard boxes, wedged between the other miscellaneous items he had yet to catalogue. Other than the two boxes, there was little of note. He checked the washroom and found a full, unused bar of lard-soap and a toothbrush (hardly used, thankfully). Zahid had been dimmer than expected to put all the usefull items he had to waste, but Bane was happy for the laggard's disregard. If he could continue to help the plants grow, he might just have something other than gruel in his belly. He strode out of the empty bathroom and on his way out of the cell, plucked the pillow and rough-hewn blanket from the cot. _The profits of victory were sweet indeed_, he thought proudly.

No prisoner bothered to attack Bane while he ferried the gifts of Zahid's death back to his own cage. It would bring shame and severe punishment from the whole prison if an inmate were to dishonor the _tohaadii_ champion, so every man he passed shied away. When he stood on the threshold of his cell, Bane kicked the bars to catch the attention of his bunkmate. "Open up," he instructed stiffly, in a hurry to unload and thoroughly inspect the contents of the boxes. She grimaced at the jolt of the metal pipes and quirked a brow at him. If she had any intention to deny him entry because of his earlier tirade, she gave no indication of it with the quickness that she complied. The door swung open and he hurried in, pushing his mountain of books to the edge of his desk so he could set the boxes down.

"What's all that?" he heard her ask from behind him, her warmth just inches from his back.

He stiffened at the closeness, but replied nonetheless. "Zahid, the man I fought, lost the challenge. By right of victory, I earned anything in his cell at the time of his defeat or death. This is what he had with him." As he was explaining to her, he opened the first box and set aside the planters, which elicited a gasp and small bark of glee from the woman. It heartened them both to see the small fragments of life, apparently. "Before you pester me with more questions, let me see what else is here." He pulled out the bar of soap and toothbrush, then found a handful of poorly crafted shivs tucked in the folds of a worn copy of the Vedas, a scripture sacred to the Hindu. Bane noted the peculiarity of the book's nature, but kept on looking through the box's contents.

When all was extracted and placed around the cell to see, he had found a treasure trove of items worth keeping and selling. The six small pots of plants the book and shivs, a cracked inkwell filled with animal fat for chapstick, two thick candles made of similar material, a hand-sized wheel of hard cheese, a thick stack of blank pages of paper, a pillow and blanket, and the crown of the spoils: three bottles of bootleg alcohol and a cup of sugar. Early on in Bane's inspection he'd concluded that none of this could have been Zahid's by his own genius. The items must have been the bribery of Zahid's recruiter, Amar. The gaunt little man had a vendetta against Bane's bunkmate since she'd broken his wrist almost half a year ago, but he hadn't the strength to challenge either of them, even as petite as his celly was, so he manipulated the largest and dumbest of the prison to do his dirty work, and had lost both him and the prizes he'd given him. Regardless of the true reason Zahid came to possess the stuff, Bane was glad that there were people so minute in brainpower that he could come to own all this.

"That's lemongrass," his cellmate started, pointing at the small grassy stalks in the nearest pot to her.

Bane looked at the woman with a look of disbelief. "It's what?"

"It's lemongrass," she repeated simply, hands raised in a general gesture of noncommittal.

"Are you a botanist?" he asked sharply, not entirely believing that she could know what she claimed to say

He watched her shoulders raise and drop. "I'm no plant advocate, but I know my edibles. This is lemongrass. You can tell from the slightly sour smell and the shape of its shoots. This here," she pointed to the pot with a thick green covering of tiny, rounded leaves, "is chia. It's not flavorful, but it grows fast and is wonderfully good for you." The next plant she inspected was another thick-sprouting cluster of shoots that had white bases and smelled faintly of body odor. "These are stalks of a green onion strain. From the number of them, they can't be scallions. Still, if you cut just at the whites, they will keep growing again and again."

Bane was impressed with her despite himself. "Do you know all of these plants?" he asked, genuinely interested. Anything she could tell him of the flora would greatly help, and could possibly be the life or death of the frail things.

She nodded slowly. "I can make educated guesses, but only if I taste a small piece of each would I be sure. This one here," she lifted a dark green bush of a plant for him to examine, "is spinach. Terrible tasting in my opinion, but again... It's good for you." With the last two pots in hand, she brandished the one with wispy shoots that bloomed with white cottony blossoms first. "Garlic chives from the smell of them. And this," she smiled and held out the final plant, "is going to be the godsend of your life. These are strawberries! A strain I think are called "alpine". None of these plants need any direct light, just some water and daytime warmth." She beamed with delight at him, unaffected by their previous interactions. "Do you understand what this means? No more bland gruel and hardtack!" She practically emanated the joy she voiced.


	15. Combobreaker

**Author's Note: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter, and I am delighted to bring you another today! I feel like this one is of poorer quality, but I wrote a buck-ton, so I hope it makes up for the (terrible) writing. Rate, review, follow and favorite! Thank you!**

"For me, in any case. I hope you don't presume to think you'll get any." He gazed at me with firm, unwavering eyes. His negative mood was back as quick and bland as ever. While it was true he never said that he would be free with the spoils, I couldn't help but think he was pretty incapable of caring for the greenery. Could I just let him kill those things? A sigh escaped me and I ran my fingers through my hair as a gesture of resignation. I couldn't very well persuade him, and truthfully, why should he share? I hadn't done a damn thing to help him since I got here, other than to get him into more trouble than I was probably worth. As much as the idea of the plants being neglected pained me, I relaxed.

A frown and then a sense of calm set over me. "You're right," I conceded, holding out the two plants that I still held. He quirked a brow at me. "Here. These are yours." It was a rhetorical statement, but the emphasis on "his" made him loosen a bit. He took the plants and set them on the desk with the rest, turning to look at me again. He remained there, watching me watch him, a stoic expression of apathy on his face. I didn't have any intention of breaking under the pressure he surely wanted me to feel, but when my stomach snarled its lament, I winced and caved. "Can I go get my food, since you seem content to stay here?"

The creases on his forehead bunched together and he pursed his lips. "You should know that answer," he growled, crossing his arms. _Of course you should_, the logical side of my brain chastised with bitter sarcasm. What other answer did I expect? Instead of protesting, I shrugged and stood up, the action driving my cellmate to his feet to stop me. "The answer is no," he pointed out, as if I had thought otherwise. I could play the silent game, too, and this was as good a time as any. Instead of elaborating on my actions, I hooked my fingers around the suspended bar above our cots and I lifted myself up so my legs rested on the bar, dangling me upside down.

The lines on his face grew thicker as he saw me begin a bout of exercise. "What are you doing?" he pressed dumbly. Did it look like I was doing anything but what I was doing? The question was aggravating, but I let the irritation pass. I was more surprised at the amount of talking he was doing. Was there some ulterior motive here? I pondered the reasons as I pulled myself up into a hanging crunch and whispered the first of many numbers, keeping the answer to _his_ question internalized. It was plain to see what I was doing. As I slowly eased back into the hanging position, I chanced to see my bunkmate's face mere inches from my own. Upside down or not, the crystal clear hazel eyes he used to stare at me were entrancing. "Don't touch anything," he commanded. He stood then, going to the gate of the cell and leaving me to myself for the third time in a day.

_He'll be back before nightfall_, I predicted as I turned my head to glimpse him passing down the stairs. I noted that throughout his short stay to look through his prizes, his whole presence had oozed with discomfort and mistrust. What could put him at such unease? Something must have happened while he was gone picking up Zahid's belongings, but what it was remained a mystery. _No sense in stirring yourself up over this_, I reminded myself, pulling my attention back to the reps I should be doing. By the time I had finished it was nearing the late hours of evening, and the physical exertion had left me drenched in sweat. I completed the last of my stretching, loosening up the tension that bunched my muscles together. I would need to be as limber as possible with the idea that was slowly working its way into my head. The euphoria of physical activity coursed through my veins, and I felt a sense of hyper-awareness sharpen my every sense. It was then I decided, on impulse, I wouldn't wait for my cellmate to allow me out.

When he was deep in the throes of his dreams, I would sneak out and see exactly who that woman and child were, and what had gotten them down here.

* * *

My cellmate came back with our meager rations just as darkness set in. We ate in complete silence, aware of each other's presence but not willing to respond or break the tense air about us. Eventually we finished our portions, and I stowed away some of my own water for the plants. I couldn't assume he would care for them properly. When we both laid down and the prison settled to sleep, I lay in my cot, legs crossed and eyes closed in meditation. The time passed quickly until I heard the soft snores rumble in my bunkmate's chest.

As silent as my sensei had taught me, I padded barefoot past him and to the door, where I used some of the animal fat to grease the hinges. With that out of the way, I smoothed a little more onto the shaft of the key and let the excess coat the inside of the lock so the tumblers made very little noise. The soft click of the mechanism undoing itself gave me pause as I listened to see if my compatriot would rouse, but he made no move as if he noticed. I smiled to myself and slipped out of the cage, adrenaline making every fragment of moon and star light shine brightly. The super enhanced senses of fight or flight settled into my body, and I loped with long, silent steps towards the place where I had seen the woman and child.

A lucid calm stole my breath as I came to a stop in front of a cell that connected to its two neighbors and also held a third cage tucked into the back, where the washroom should be. In the dim of night I made out five bodies in the four interconnected cells. Two were in curled sleeping positions, obviously male with their size and shape, and they both shared the cell to my left, next to the empty middle junction. To my right was a body that lay wrapped in crudely woven white linen, smelling faintly of death. From the sheer girth, I could only imagine that it was Zahid, the man who died by my companion's own hands. I turned my eyes to the room half hidden in pitch dark, and faintly I could make out a shapely body robed in dirty gray fabric, curled against a smaller, more lanky form donned in a similar fashion.

I couldn't get to them without breaking the locks, and even if I didn't make enough noise to wake someone, it would still leave them exposed come morning. I couldn't call out to them either, as the two sleeping men may just as well wake up. A loose piece of stone rested at my feet, and I resorted to throwing it towards the larger of the sleeping pair in the back room. My training came back to me as I palmed the partially smooth rock. With learned accuracy I tossed the pebble and bounced it off the woman's side. It jolted her awake and she peered around to find the source of the disturbance. When her eyes fell on me, without the garb that hid my face, she gasped softly, pulling the sleeping child closer to her. "What do you want?" she rasped in a hushed voice, her English surprisingly clear.

I hadn't thought much about what I would say, so when she asked I was silent for a moment. I chanced a look around me before I considered answering, and satisfied with the lack of movement in the prison, I replied in an equally hushed tone, "I thought I was the only woman in here."

The look on her face was wry, sour, and pained all at the same time. "Would that were true." She stroked the child's hair lovingly before continuing. "Did you draw those pictures that Bane brought?"

The conversation was definitely in her control with the change of topic. "Bane?" I questioned, not comprehending what she had meant, despite mention of my sketches.

"Yes," she drawled slowly, as if my inquiry was unnecessary. Then a sense of realization washed over her. "He didn't tell you his name?" She shook her head, unbelieving that it was even conceivable. "Yes, Bane. That's your protector's name. Now, back to my question: was it your hand that drew those pictures?"

Her question puzzled me. What was the significance of who drew them and how did she find out about them? And what did she mean by protector? My cellmate had hardly been a protector. He was more closely related to a kidnapper, though I did owe my health to him and the doctors, wherever they may be. "I drew them, yes. But, what does that matter?" My muffled impatience was clear, but she paid it no heed.

Her next question stunned me. "Do you know of the fang that protects the head?" The ease in which she posed the inquisition halted any preconceived notions I had about this encounter. I darted my eyes left and right, then back, checking to see if I'd been seen as of yet. No one stirred in the Pit, and if I strained my ears, I could faintly hear the bear-like snores of my bunkmate, Bane. I didn't even have time to process his name, I was so consumed by the revelation that this unassuming woman may have known about the League. When I confirmed her question, she relaxed a little, though still looming over the young one with protective posture. "We cannot talk more right now, with such risks hanging about us. Find a way to come to me during the day, when our words will be drowned out by the prisoners."

I wanted to protest, but knew that she was more than right. I nodded silently and fled back to the safety of my own cell. I could have found an empty one and been on my own, free of the commands of Bane, but I still had a lot I could learn and profit from by staying. He was not easy to handle, but if I should find myself in trouble, he was a good person to have guard my back. Biting back the distaste of abandoning the sense of freedom I'd just felt, I crept back into the cell and wiped down the key on my grainy blanket. In order to keep my companion- _Bane_, my head reminded me, - from finding out I had left without his approval, I picked up a handful of the powdery dirt on the ground under my bed and rubbed it into the hinges and lock, trying as best I could to replicate the original groans and whines the metal made. I couldn't check my handiwork without waking Bane, so I resigned myself to either course of fate, should he find out or be oblivious.

I slipped into the folds of my uncomfortable blanket and did my best to meditate until sleep could overtake me. I pondered on the foremost thing that bothered me; my cellmate's name was Bane. Why Bane? Was it a nickname? Did he have a name other than that? I would have to ask him, but tactfully, as if I'd heard his name by chance when an inmate passed the cell. I couldn't do anything about the woman and child at the moment, nor could I make plans to see them again without risking more than I'd already had. I settled down and closed my eyes, letting all my thoughts disappear.

Vague images of my childhood training lulled me into a happy slumber, despite the abrupt turn of events that had transpired in the night, and when a large, warm hand touched my shoulder, I roused calmly and with a new sense of purpose. Bane was just moving away from me, and I noticed that the cell had been rearranged since I fell asleep. The desk leaned against the bars to the right of the gated door to the Pit. It had been reinforced with some more wood that had appeared without my knowledge, and the poorly crafted drawers were in better shape than before. All six plants rested on the top of the desk, absorbing the indirect sunlight with their hungry leaves and shoots.

As I sat up, I glanced down next to my bed and saw the morning's rations, dashed with a small pinch of chia. I stopped myself from grinning at the kindness, picking up the bowl of gruel and slab of hardtack, turning my attention to the new surroundings. Bane's cot had been moved away from the outer part of the cell and now hugged the wall parallel to mine, the washroom arch being the only space between us. I looked to the small space underneath his bed and saw the two cardboard boxes, presumably filled with the contents that they'd originally contained. A third box, made of some sort of worn fiber, lay nearest to the head of the bed and I frowned, not recognizing the object. I squinted at it from where I sat, and I thought I saw something that resembled a paw.

"Don't snoop," came Bane's voice, as gruff and filled with his odd accent as it had ever been. I tensed ever so slightly at the sudden noise, turning to look at him as he spoke.

"Sorry," I grinned sheepishly. "Just... Redecorating? It doesn't seem your style." My grin turned a sly shade of dark humor. Bane did his best to remain unamused, but his lips twitched upwards anyway. He made no response otherwise, but sat down and gestured to begin eating. "Thank you for the chia," I said before he took a bite. He looked at me, mild surprise pulling his eyebrows up. I persisted before he could ruin my attempts at expressing my gratitude. "I know you could have just as easily not gotten me food at all, so the extra is..." I choked on my words, trying to put them in the right order. "The extra is more than I could have hoped for. Thank you."

His knuckles were white around the lip of his wooden bowl, betraying the blank expression on his face. I looked down at my food and began eating in silence, not wanting to press the situation and anger him. _I need him to be as amicable as possible_, I thought, taking a hefty bite and relishing in the change of flavor from the bland watery oats of months past. As I mixed the chia into the oats, I noted that the mush tasted oddly sweet for a change. I savored the mouthful before swallowing. "Did you put sugar in here as well?" I asked incredulously, turning my attention to Bane who was already over half done with his share.

He jerked his head once in confirmation and I nearly fell out of my bed with unbidden surprise. Before I could stop myself, I put aside the food and stood up, jumping forward to embrace him in a hug. He pulled his bowl out of the way just in time, hands up to fend off the perceived attack. Frivolous bouts of self expression weren't things I was accustomed to, so it was just as much a shock to me as it was to him. After the long span of time where he and I both worked our minds around what had happened, I scrambled away and mumbled a string of apologies.

_What were you thinking?!_ I screamed inside, berating myself with immense enthusiasm. The months of apathetic contact must have gotten to me more than I anticipated for me to react like _that_. I sat back down and ate with a renewed intent, eyes downcast. From my peripherals I could see Bane, still stuck in the position I'd left him in. His hands were pressed to his knees as he sat straight, almost leaning back as if I had struck him. His eyes were vacant and a single vein pulsed on the side of his brow. A wry thought entered my mind despite my best attempts to stop it. _If this is all it takes to unsettle him, I've got a way out of the cage that is as close to permission as I'm like to get._

* * *

The gears in his head were stuck. The profundity of his cellmate's gratitude was staggering to the point of dumbfound surprise. He couldn't help the faint sadness he felt as she withdrew, seeing that she was just as horrified as he appeared to be that she'd hugged him without leave. She buried herself in the efforts of eating, but he barely noticed her. Bane was still trying to comprehend the reasoning behind her outburst of affection. Just yesterday she had expressed a stand-offish attitude, and the day previous to that she was even more stubborn and unreasonable, so what had happened between last night and this morning? He stared blankly at the ceiling, slowly working through the situation in his own way. Eventually he relaxed enough to finish his slightly sweetened gruel, but his mind could not rationalize what she had done.

"I'm sorry," he heard her grumble again, louder than the multiple times she'd whispered it before sitting down. "I know you very well hate my presence, I just..." He watched her mouth a handful of words that she didn't seem to be able to say, but finally she managed something. "I was surprised by your sharing the spoils of your victory." She ran one of her hands through the short ropes of her hair in distress. Quieter than before, she spoke to herself, "Perhaps it was because of me being stuck down here for so long..."


	16. Wolf in the Lion's Den

**Author's Note: Took me a bit longer to write this out due to some family stuff I had to situate. To make up for the late update, I wrote a lot! A special thank you goes out to AvalonTheLadyKiller for the great review and suggestions! I am listening and will keep your thoughts with mine. Rate, review, follow, and favorite!**

His bunkmate looked up at the ceiling of their cell and sighed again. "I have forgotten myself." The expression she wore as she turned her gaze down to stare at the remnants of her breakfast was one of dismal lackluster. He opened his mouth to respond but no words came to him. What was there to say? He was no good at comforting an equal, much less this woman who he knew so little about. She glanced at him briefly, but whether it was shame or respect that drove her, he could not tell. She downed the last of her meal and looked outside the cell with longing. The desire for freedom was one he was well familiar with.

"Don't," Bane warned, staring outside with her. She stiffened slightly, the sudden sound of his voice pulling her back from wherever her mind had wandered.

She looked at him with an expression of pained conflict. "Don't what?" she asked, her uncharacteristically vulnerable presence putting him off.

"Don't look up and hope. That is what this place is meant to foster. Sometime or another, everyone makes the climb, but everyone fails. You are no different. Don't delude yourself." Bane gave no leave to the illusion of freedom, pushed the whole situation out of his mind, and began to exercise. It helped his mind sharpen when he put his energy to the simplest of things. Down and up he went on hands and toes, starting with push ups. As he finished his ninth repetition he heard the creak of her cot and saw from corner of his eyes that she was assuming the same position, although there was no room with him taking up the small walkway between the cots. She put herself adjacent to the beds instead, her head near his so they could count together. "Catch up to me," he huffed before returning to his previous task.

She did just that. When he hit his nineteenth repetition, she matched him up and then they went together. Down and up. Up and down. "113, 114, 115," she grunted, sweat dripping from her brow, her hair sticking to her face with salty tendrils. Morning was in full swing now as they both soldiered through their competition.

He was amazed to find that she was enduring more and more with each passing day. Just a month ago, she would have only made it to 100, and that was out of sheer will. As he lowered himself to keep in time, he noticed that while she was strained, she exhibited no hint of defeat as she had in the months previous. He opened his mouth to pick up the count in an effort to save her the extra effort, but another voice stopped him and gave them both pause. "Tohaadii, tifl. Al-yawm." Bane bristled at the demand and sat up, seeing that his companion had done the same. Amar loomed at the outside of their cell, eyes only for Bane's bunkmate.

"Get out of here," she growled to him. Her poorly constructed Arabic would have made him laugh, but under the circumstances he only straightened more. As she goaded Amar, Bane made the connection that this was a challenge to her, not to him. This opportunity was perfect for the questions that Melisande had posed. She could inadvertently prove that she was right, while at the same time showing the prisoners that she was not one to be trifled with. And if she lost... Well, that would make his life easier. No more of this dancing about with words.

She would have to fight.

"Boy, do you want to get fucked?" Amar roared, gripping the bars so hard that his knuckles turned white. "You will fight me, and you will do it today, or we will break into your little birdcage and force you. Fifteen minutes, boy. No more." With that threat in place, a smug looking Amar sauntered away. Bane thought he saw a flash of something steely and sharp in the folds of the challenger's robes, and he realized then that Amar had no intention of losing. He would win by any means necessary, and so long as the inmates didn't see the weapon until the fight was over, he would gut her without reserve.

As Amar disappeared, she looked back at him with a cautious eye. "I don't foresee that there's ever been someone to say no to the challenge," she lulled rhetorically. He nodded grimly and she sighed. "Are you going to let me out, then? Better to do this sooner rather than later."

Bane inclined his head again, proud that she was quick to end the problem. "He has a shiv on him," he pointed out as they both stood and dusted themselves off.

"I know."

"Disarm him so the prison can see, and you won't have to do the killing. The inmates here don't like to see foul play in a tohaadii."

"Got it." Her simple answers alerted him to the fact that she was already in fight mode. He smiled at that.

"Win, and I just may let you have a key of your own."

* * *

I stopped my inner chant of calm as I processed what Bane had said. If I won, he would give me a key to the cell. That meant I could go out on my own! I had only intended to fight because it was mandatory and risking the winnings Bane had only just acquired was the height of rude, but now... Now I had more of a drive to survive. I had a goal. "I'll hold you to that," I quipped, a deadly grin spreading over my face despite my every effort to remain calm.

The adrenaline that was slowly building in my veins doubled when he opened the cell and I stepped out first. The descending prison was much more dismal in the light of day. As I started for the stairs I felt Bane's hand stop me. "Before you go, you should know... My name is-"

"Bane." I finished his sentence for him and shrugged off his hand with a knowing smile, turning away from his dumbstruck features and lowering myself into the many bodies of men that were heading down to witness the fight. Thankfully I was still fairly anonymous in the garb that everyone else wore; a rough woolen robe of an off-white color with a blue hood of similar make. The whole prison would flood the lowest level of the Pit if they realized I was a woman. I kept the cloth loose around my body in order to mask the curves of my chest and rear, but I couldn't fight with the hood up. It would obscure my vision. With the smudges of dirt and circles of bruises from sparring, I looked like just another inmate, though. I looked male. That would keep me safe so long as I didn't let my robe flow open.

_"Tohaadii, tohaadii,"_ the men around me started, louder than the morning previous when Bane had killed Zahid. As I touched the cool water and leveled my eyes with my challenger, I heard Bane's voice rise above the clamor, cheering the same as the rest. I risked a glance up, but instead of seeing Bane, I saw the woman and child. They were in the same cage as before, holding their hands up to the bars with their eyes on me. The small child waved, a smile spreading across her face. I smiled back and nodded, turning my gaze back to the man who'd challenged me.

"Oh, good. You didn't waste any time coming to your death," he bellowed in his thick Arabic sneer.

I couldn't respond in his tongue anymore than a few basic words, so I settled for a mocking gesture with my hands. He drew himself up and held one hand above him to signal the start. You cannot dodge him or else you lose by default, I reminded myself. He closed in quickly, but I made no move to take up a stance, nor to deflect the incoming first blow. I saw the gleam of a blade underneath the curve of his left hand, but thankfully he wasn't so stupid as to hit me with it on the first attack. He took a heavy swing at my mouth, no doubt intending to break a few teeth, and I let his fist collide, but not before positioning myself so that his knuckles stopped against my forehead rather than my fragile jawbone. He groaned and started to pull his hand back, but I stepped into his unprotected personal space and buried my own fist into the deep pit of his stomach.

_"TO-HAA-DII! TO-HAA-DII!"_ The prison erupted with the call, drowning out any curses that my assailant may have ground out through clenched teeth. He staggered back from my punch to his belly, brandishing the shiv in the depths of his sleeve. He wouldn't let me have another chance like that. Now I had to debate on whether or not it would be worth more to disarm him and let the prison see, or kill him with my own hands and then show them what he had intended. As he lunged forward, point slicing at my ribs, I decided that the latter would be more gratifying. As much as I would love to shame him before death, it would do my better to just kill him. More respect would come from it.

I narrowly dodged the slash, pretending that I made no move other than to attack on my own with a right handed jab. He grinned through the jab to his collarbone as he thought he felt blade bite into flesh, but his shock and disappointment appeared soon after when I kneed him in the abdomen again. He coughed and sputtered, reeling back and slashing high in a moment of blind anger. I could not covertly dodge like before and when the knife split open the top of my shoulder, I stumbled back a foot. The shiv was dull, but the wound was enough to hinder the use of my right arm. It wouldn't affect my fighting too much, though, as I'd been trained to be ambidextrous. I pushed the pain aside and leaped forward, pulling my foot from the weight of the water and smashing it against the hand that still clutched at his knotted stomach.

He howled an angry curse of pain, but it looked no more than a grimace against the roar of the prison's chanting. I kicked once more, dancing back in a fake gesture of unbalance as he attempted to land the point in the meat of my calf. He narrowed his eyes at me and I smiled sweetly, the motion as close to a taunt as could be. He charged forward, arms outstretched to tackle and grapple. If I was caught in his grip I would be done for, but if I dodged I would lose. I reacted quickly, falling onto my back and pressing my foot into his midriff, sending him soaring beyond where I lay. The water bogged me down as I rose to put my front towards him, but so far the robes still kept my gender a secret. He lay in the water, coughing sputtering, clutching at a gash that lined the back of his skull. He did his best to keep a hold on his weapon, but as I wrenched him up from the cool water the shiv sank to the bottom of the pool.

I would not let him die without shame. He punched at me, but the impact of his head to the stone had jarred most of his energy out. As I picked up the sharp fragment of metal from the depths of the waters and held it high, the prison chants fell silent. "He stabbed me!" I screamed, pointing the blade to the red that stained my shoulder. "Shame upon him!" I formed the words slowly in their own tongue so they could fully grasp the magnitude of his mistake. I made eye contact with as many as I could before tossing the blade aside and looking back at the challenger. His eyes were full of scorn and disdain, hating me with every remaining ounce of his existence. A great boom of displeasure crashed around us as the prison erupted with rage. My opposer would not get an honored death. I leaned close to his ear as he still fought against my grip, spitting every bit of malice I could muster back at him. "I am no boy, you fool. I am a woman, and I have bested you."

The look of pure shock crossed his bloody face as I gripped his neck with both hands and squeezed, ignoring the protests of my right arm. The light in his eyes began to dim, but he held on stubbornly. In a last ditch effort to gain revenge he lashed out and tore at the neck of my robes. A pang of primal survival instinct shot up into my throat as the fabric started to pull away. I slammed his head repeatedly against the stone wall behind him, willing his death to come sooner. He pulled once more on the collar of my wares, but his life fled him before the cloth could tear. As he went limp in my hands I let the breath I'd been holding out and dropped him. Screams of victory and congratulations flew from every corner of the prison, a hearty sign that I was now someone to respect. I pulled the robes back into place before anyone could glimpse my frame and waded out of the pool, wanting to retreat to the cell so I could dry off in privacy.

The men parted as I slowly made my way back up, clapping me on the back and touching me in gestures of approval. I barely managed a few curt nods and smiles before I reached my cell, where Bane stood stone-faced and motionless, eyes closed. Had he even watched the fight? It didn't matter, honestly. The point was that I won. As much as I wanted to go in and strip of my musty clothing, I took up a place next to Bane, crossing my arms and mimicking his stance. I could wait if need be. The adrenaline coursed through me and caused my hands to shake, but despite the excitement of my body, I calmed my mind in a small manner of meditation. The sensation of cool metal against my forearm caused me to open my eyes.

Bane had tapped me with the end of a key which he was now twirling on his finger with two others. "You won," he said expectantly, smiling ever so slightly.

"Yeah? What of it?" I was in no mood to play mind games.

He scowled and pulled two of the three keys away, pocketing the third. "These are yours. One is Amar's cell key, the other is your own." He shoved them into my hand and pointed to a door one level down and six cells away. "That's where you'll find your spoils. Don't let anyone near you." He jabbed one thick finger to the top of my left breast, reminding me that no one was to find out I was a female.

"I got it, I got it." He was ever the protective and persistent one. I took a step forward to go and pick up my winnings, but he stopped me again.

"I have questions when you get back." His eyes were dark, swimming with mysterious intentions. I inclined my head and set off. Most of the prisoners were already doing their own thing, but those who were wandering and crossed my path either nodded curtly or ignored me completely. _Better this way_, I thought, glad to be left alone. I didn't need their companionship, just their respect. I was no longer a caged beast to be poked and taunted. I could roam free and do as I pleased. I produced the key that went to Amar's cell as I approached it, opening the door to find very little possessions worth taking. Obviously he had given the majority of his belongings to Zahid, thinking he would do the job.

All that remained to Amar was a stash of moonshine and some sheets of crude cloth. I looked under the bed, inside the lumpy mattress, in the open pipes of the bed frame, and even in the washroom, but there was nothing. I sighed. I should have expected nothing less. But, as I picked up the few spoils of victory and moved to leave, I caught a glimpse of something shiny tucked between two stones. I grabbed the end of it and pulled. To my joy and surprise I was holding a small candy bar! It was a chocolate bar nonetheless. I groaned in pleasure at the memory of what it tasted like. I tucked it between the folds of the blankets and took my spoils back to my own cell.

Once more no one attempted to hinder my trek, and a small swelling of pride started in the depths of my belly as I slipped into my own room. Bane was already back from his own adventure, and he held out my rations when I sat down. "Thanks," I grinned, digging in despite the bland porridge. Not even the empty flavor of the gruel could dissuade me from my optimistic mood. We ate in silence and when I'd finished he let me have a moment to change and relieve myself in the washroom. When I came back and returned to sitting on my cot, he opened his mouth to speak but I stopped him. "Here." I felt around the blankets until I found the bootleg alcohol and handed it to him. "I owe you more, but this was all Amar had left to him." I retrieved the chocolate next and opened it.

"What is that?" he asked me, momentarily distracted by the candy.

Either he had never seen the brand of chocolate I held, or this man was severely sheltered. "It's chocolate, Bane. Have you never had any?"

His eyes looked from the brown bar of milk chocolate to me, contemplating the claim I'd made. "I've never had anything like that before. Is it food?"

I was momentarily taken aback. Had he seriously not had chocolate before? I immediately broke off a piece and offered it to him. "Open up." He narrowed his gaze at me and refused. "Look, bub, if you don't eat it now it's going to melt. Eat the damn thing before I shove it up your nose." He huffed at me but finally complied, now that the heat of my fingertips had melted some of the tasty treat. I planted the square on his tongue and pulled my fingers away quickly, gauging his reaction.

He worked his jaw muscles, tasting the new item with a curious expression. Confusion spread over his face, then wonder, and finally satisfaction. He mulled the food around a little more before swallowing. "Admittedly, that is the best thing I think I have ever tasted." He let himself enjoy the lingering flavors before turning serious again. "How do you know my name?"

_Oh boy_. I hadn't really thought about it when I'd finished his sentence for him earlier, but now that he'd addressed it, I had to find a way to avoid the truth. "Some of the inmates had mentioned it while passing by yesterday," I explained quickly, unwilling to reveal that I'd actually been out of the cell without him knowing. "I caught them saying something about Zahid being a fool for challenging you." I put the chocolate away as I elaborated, no longer wanting to have any. He could ruin even the sweetest of moments, it seemed. He analyzed me for a long moment before nodding. I let the tension roll from my limbs and I flopped onto my back, exhausted by the quick turns of today's events. "I could do with never having a day like this again," I grumbled to the ceiling.

"You won't have to if you don't make enemies," Bane replied. I scoffed but made no other acknowledgement, so we sat in silence, listening to the rest of the prison breath with life. When I'd just started drifting into a lucid dream state, Bane spoke again. "You fought extremely well." I noted the extreme strain in his voice, and I could tell it took a great amount of effort for him to admit it.

"I learned from a great sensei," I reflected, breathing a deep sigh of longing. It had been over half a year since I'd been with the League and I truly missed the family I'd come to know. The balance we enforced was a comfort that I didn't get here. There was no equal exchange here that I recognized.

"Who was your teacher?" he inquired, true curiosity lilting in the question.

I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. He was sitting up, looking right back at me with his elbows to his knees. "Why are you so inquisitive? You've spoken to me more these past two days than in the months I've been here." He frowned and drew his brows together, turning away from me. "No. You don't get to close up." I rose to my feet and jabbed him with a finger. "If you get to ask questions, so do I. I'm not about to answer you unless you're willing to answer me, too."

He spun his head in my direction so quickly I was afraid he'd break his neck. "I asked because I wanted to know why you didn't fight like that when we sparred." His chin stuck out defiantly at me, a sign that he wasn't fearful or deterred by my presence above him. "Now, are we going to continue to wave our cocks about, or are you going to answer _me_ this time?"

Despite my best intentions I laughed. "If I had a cock to wave, you wouldn't have snatched me up and we wouldn't be talking now." I sat on the floor at his feet, leaning against the side of my cot. I ran a hand through my hair, wincing at the reminder that my shoulder was wounded. I'd have to get that checked before the day was out. Bane looked down at me, waiting with his infinitely finite patience. "His name was Ra's Al Ghul, and he saved me from certain death."


	17. Pretenders, Defenders

**Author's Note: Beware, as much as the beginning is a nice opening to their relationship, if you're not privy to adult themes (this means rape, lovelies) then I suggest you skip the later half, where "A scream" starts. I warned y'all it wouldn't be pretty. Anyway, thank you all for the reviews! It made me excited to write more, so here's another lengthy chapter! Rate, review, follow and favorite! I live on thine whims of kindness, readers! (to anyone who feels this chapter leaves a lot of holes open, just wait until next chapter)**

"Who is Ra's Al Ghul? Was he a scholar? A master? A king?" The curiosity Bane oozed was so unlike him.

I took a moment to gather the enormity of my admission. By telling my story I was giving up on any hope that I could escape this place, and that alone made me hesitate. I looked up at Bane and saw a flicker of knowing cross his face before it was overtaken by an insatiable hunger for knowledge. With another deep breath I pressed on. "He's a precarious man and notorious in the darkest corners of the world. I was around seven when one of his allies, Ubu, scooped me up from the life of a beggar on the streets. He drugged me, deprived me of my basic rights, then proceeded to instruct me on the path that my life would take. If I refused, he'd kill me, and not kindly. What choice did a scrawny seven year old little girl have, but to agree?" I shrugged with my question and turned my palms upward.

"So, I listened as best I could and went to this "Demon's Den" per my directions. Three days of frozen fingers and toes later, I met Ra's and his associate, Sensei. I didn't know Sensei then, and all I could gather was that he was a crazy, blind old fuck. He couldn't even tell I was a girl." I laughed to myself at the memory, leaning my head back on the cot. "He still is a damned ancient fool of a master, always calling after me, "Boy, you didn't clean your tea cup! Get your sniveling self back here and be respectful of your elders!". If I was lucky to dodge his bony hands, I could walk away without a limp, but if not, well..." I pulled the robes away from my right arm and let Bane see the scar that ran haphazardly over the softer flesh of my forearm.

"Courtesy of a break bad enough to splinter bone." The chuckle I let out then was bitter, but even if the wound was uncalled for, I couldn't help but admire the wrinkled man for his prowess. Even now, when he and Ra's no doubt cursed my name, I looked up to them. Bane snatched my arm by the wrist and studied the gnarled seam on my arm. "Anyway," I continued, unphased by the contact, "when I delivered the message, Ra's told me that I knew too much to be released as Ubu had said. I could join Ra's or die. You see me now and know the decision I made. For the rest of my life up until a year and a half ago, I was training and doing missions with the Demon and his order. I had to prove my mettle against agents of darkness, protectors of light, and others who danced in between.

"Just a year and a half ago, I was initiated and sent on my first solo mission. I was young and unassuming, so the task ahead of me fit like a glove. A city we had been watching and keeping tabs on for nearly half a century was dying in the slowest of ways, and I was to help tip the scales of balance back into place. I can't divulge much more than that, but in my year under Gotham City's jurisdiction-"

"What is Gotham City?" Bane interjected, letting go of my arm to look back at me with those deep, intelligent hazel eyes.

"It's one of the most prosperous and dangerous cities in the entirety of the world. Anyway," I quirked a brow at him, "I did as I was told and couldn't have been more proud of myself. Near the end of my stint there, the civilian woman who accompanied me to the city had found herself in the throes of drugs and got me caught by the police. I weaved them as elaborate a story as they needed without telling them a damn thing about my order, and they let me go. I thought I had been safe in my words, but when I returned to Ra's those nine months ago... He cursed me to walk the earth with no one to trust. Anytime I found myself a place, word reached them that I was the lowest of the low, and they cast me out.

"Finally, I fell prey to a warlord and his goonies, whereupon he had his fun attempting to wrench the whereabouts of Ra's from me. I denied him at every turn despite his tactics and now... Well, you see me here, don't you?" I lifted my shoulders again. "Does that answer any questions you may have had?"

Bane gazed at me thoughtfully, resting his chin in the folds of his hands. For a long time we sat in silence, letting the conversation hang in the air with an insightful quality. I knew nothing about him, but I was capable of speaking to him freely. This notion surprised me, but the bigger shock was that I _liked_ talking to him. Despite his brash and rough demeanor, he was an intent listener, and I was sure that if I gave him enough time, he would come to talk to me openly as well. "You should get that shoulder wound looked at by Vinen before the day is out," he said randomly, touching his index and middle finger to the slowly bleeding gouge on my right.

"Show me the way, then." I moved to stand but the fatigue, both mental and physical, pinned me in place. Bane shook his head in a gesture of unamused disappointment, but offered his hand regardless. He pulled me to my feet with little effort and supported my weight while we made our way down to where he knew the doctor would be. To my mild surprise I found that the men who lived in the cell near the mother and her child were in fact Vinen and Ayham, the two who patched me up when I first came to the pit. When I saw them both and Bane introduced me I gave them both their native courtesies as best I could, then thanked them in English.

I noted that the woman and child were not in view of the prison or any of the patients during the day. Proof enough of that was in front of me as Ayham cleaned and stitched my shoulder. "The cut is deep, but you are lucky. No tendons were severed, and you will be fine. See that it does not happen again, _humaq_." The last word was foreign to me, but the way he said it was plain as day an insult.

"What'd you call me?" I growled through clenched teeth as he sank the hook into my skin again. All three men were laughing at me under their breath. I glowered directly at Bane. "Hey, woman. Quit the crowing and tell me what he said." The verbal barb sank deep and Ayham stopped his work, a low gasp coming from Vinen.

For too long a moment Bane remained stoic and void of a response. Both doctors looked from him to me and back, debating on whether or not he'd kill me for the insult. The smile that broke his dark demeanor was slow but deliberate. "Anyone else would have died for that, cunt," he jeered back, chuckling at the incredulity of the whole situation.

"Yeah? Good thing I'm not anyone else then, eh?" I winked at him then grimaced as Ayham returned to his work, glad that Bane had not reached across the cell to kill me.

"You test a man to his limits, _humaq_," Ayham huffed, shaking his head at me. He pulled the last of the thread through and surgically knotted the stitch in place before cutting it and waving me away. With my shoulder mended, Bane and I rose to leave. I thanked them both again, and started out. When Bane had just gone out of earshot, Ayham stopped me. "Try not to come back to me in pieces, woman. I am no good with puzzles."

* * *

For the next two years, Bane remains thoroughly silent regarding his past, and for two years I secretly sneak out once a month to visit with the mother and child who remain nameless despite all my efforts. On four occasions I've been seen, but each time the witness is found with a shiv in his throat. I won't risk either of them, nor myself, to the rabid dogs that claim to be men in this hell hole. Bane on the other hand, sates his inhuman desire for conflict by challenging any prisoner he can to a fight. Unlike the _tohaadii_, which has some semblance of honor, the fights he's been in as of the past year are without restriction.

Any weapon you can put in your hand is allowed, and more often than not he returns to our cell with stab wounds and great gashes over the length of his upper body. I've learned to tend his lesser injuries from the instruction of the doctors, but I fear that each subsequent fight will be a fatal one. Bane waves my worry off and jabs me with phrases like "If you're so worried, why not teach me some of what you keep hidden? I could use the knowledge,". But we both know I can't... Ra's would be shamed if I revealed anymore than I had that night after my first fight.

From what I can tell of the prisoners, no one knows of my gender still, which is a sign that the vast luck that has followed me through life is still around. More's the better because I went through another six challengers in the entirety of my stay here, each one thought he could best me in the _tohaadii._ And, each one dies with the knowledge that I am indeed female because I allow them no fragment of pride before their demise. Bane and I are rich indeed in terms of the prison, but more and more enemies are stacking themselves before us with each victory.

Today was bad. So bad, in fact, that Bane has no idea how to handle the grief that it caused.

I woke from a midday nap to hear him grunting and cursing eight different pantheons of gods. The whole scene was a replay of the first night I'd offered him help, but this time when I offered to help, he accepted. I stood up in the afternoon gloom and grabbed a strip of leather that draped over his left shoulder. What was this mess of leatherwork he was trying to put himself into? Straps of some kind rose from the waist-belt he wore, and only then did I make the connection. "Bane..." I murmured, wary of the response I would get. I held one of the loose straps in my hands and tensed.

"What?" he snapped quietly, clearly unsettled.

I hesitated, putting one hand to the small of his back and feeling the muscles tighten with trepidation. He did not like the question he knew I was going to ask. "Is this a brace? A back brace?"

The rippling cords of dense muscle squeezed harder under my touch as I heard him grit his teeth and curse. "It is," he spat, shouldering my hand away. "Help me or don't, but say a word to anyone I will kill you so fast you won't have time to blink." That was an unneeded warning, and we both knew that. He knew I didn't care to know anyone else in the prison except him and the doctors, and both Ayham and Vinen were likely the ones who fashioned the medical item in the first place. Still, I pulled the loose strap taut and clipped it to the belt at his middle. The crunch of bone made me cringe. I realized then, that the sound was his back protesting its new position. He hadn't worn the contraption in nearly a month, but I thought it was just an item that aided to his menacing stature.

I had to be _some_ kind of ignorant to not realize the use of the damned thing sooner. "There," I grunted, tightening the last loop around his waist. He stifled a mouthful of expletives and thanked me. "No problem. Anything for Mawla." I immediately regretted the slip of the tongue as I felt him spin around and grab me at the throat.

"Where did you learn that word?!" he snarled, no longer caring whether or not the prison heard us. Someone across the pit yelled an Arabic equivalent of "shut the fuck up", but Bane paid the insult no mind. I clawed at his grip around my throat, but gave up quickly. He was too strong, and I trusted him too much, even with the prospect of my death being at his hands. So much of the two years worth of memories and the friendship we'd made flashed across my vision and I knew that this would be the end. It seemed so stupid that he would be angry over the revelation I'd been speaking to the child and the woman.

A scream so shrill and painful forced him to drop me and turn to the source. The whole prison was crowding around and inside the cells where Ayham and Vinen lived. The fingers of dread closed around both Bane and I as we realized what was going on. "Someone's found the woman and child," I gasped through each breath, staggering to my feet.

Bane had no time to question the reason I knew that, and he hauled me up with him. "Come." I obeyed without question. The woman and child were in dire need of help, and even from across the prison it was clear we would have to kill at least half of them before the bloodlust could be sated. We tore the gate open and locked it shut again before abandoning all reason and launching our attack. I ran ahead of him and slid down a rusted guard rail, descending two flights of steps in one swift motion. I looked back to Bane who was making quick work of the steps himself, but his glare told me not to stop. He valued those two more than I had thought since my time here.

I spurred onward and came upon the stragglers who were pushing against the thicker mass of bodies, knocking their feet from under them and crushing their windpipes with precise blows. As the first five men crumpled from my attacks, the others around them started to take notice. "Think you can take all of us, _boy?!"_ one of the men spat, pulling a serrated kitchen knife from somewhere beneath his robes. He stabbed outward at me, but was slow and untrained. As the blade skimmed past my right arm I smashed my knuckles into his wrist and snapped bone, rendering his grip null. The rusted blade clattered down another pair of steps as his friends moved to encircle me.

Bane had loped up and joined the fray by then, and together we made a mess of the prisoners nearest us. Through the haze of battle we vaguely recognized each other as allies, rolling and dodging our individual blows. At one point I heard him start talking, but the words were lost to me in the rush of adrenaline.

* * *

"You fight like a dog!" Bane roared, clenching his right fist together and placing a sharp jab to the back of the neck of the nearest assailant. The crack of bone felt good under his hands as Bane and his companion made their way into the deepest part of the amassed prisoners. Some of these men he'd called ally until this point. "Get in there and defend them, damn it!" he bellowed to her, desperate to keep the hands of these- he couldn't even find a word degrading enough to describe them- _things_ from hurting Talia and Melisande.

He watched his cellmate nod and gain leverage above the closely packed bodies, propelling herself into the fray nearest to the outer cell. She tore men asunder with each precise blow and used the advantage of her lithe figure to duck into the cell from atop shoulders. "_BANE!_" a high voice screamed, "_HELP ME, PLEASE! NO! NO, LEAVE HER BE! NO, STOP!_" It was Melisande. Fury unlike any he had felt before coursed through his veins and forced him to stampede through half of the men in front of him, but even with this burst of inhuman strength he could not make it into the cell.

He wailed at the top of his lungs for the sea of men to part, and miraculously it did. But, to his dismay, it was not because of his ominous presence and stature, but because the men had found their way in. Shock welled up inside him as he beheld the scene which unfolded before him as the men fled the cage before he could grab them. Three men held Melisande between them, holding her in place as each one violated an orifice. _Where is Talia,_ he thought vaguely, deeper panic setting in. _Where is the child?!_ Melisande screamed through every touch, but she could no more fight the men than she could form a word around the cock of the man who choked her.

Bane spared a glance to the cell where Vinen made his home and saw just what he was looking for. His cellmate and friend crouched low, severely wounded with her back turned. Two small feet poked out over her leg and he realized she was holding Talia, shielding her from the ruthless defiling her mother was enduring. "**BANE!**" Melisande managed before a thick hand collided with her face. It was then that Bane could not recall what happened thereafter. He tried with all the intensity of his mind, but the period between him hearing her scream his name, to the time he found himself sitting in his bed, shaking... There was blackness between.

* * *

For the longest time I was proud of my abilities. I could fend off hundreds of men without issue and still have energy left to flee. But now, when all of my skills and endurance were needed, I had failed. When Bane called out to me to get to the woman and her child, I obeyed without question. He held the same air of command about him that Ra's Al Ghul held. I used the cramped collection of bodies to make my way quickly to the gate, slipping between the thin opening above their heads to put myself between them and the girls.

I managed to avoid the protesting hands until then, but when I made my assault on the foremost row of men who gnashed at the bars of the inner cage, I was hard pressed to evade. Attacks of all kinds stemmed out, piercing me with pointed shivs and crushing bones with blunt fists. The weight against the cell door became so great that through the endless beating to my hide, the hinges gave way and men poured into where the woman and child were. Somehow I managed to stagger to my feet and I found that I was in the corner where the small child screamed. "Mawla! Mawla, hamaya Ommah! Min fudliki, Mawla!"

I knew enough of her dialect at this point to understand she was asking Bane to save her mother, but from the looks of it... I shuddered, loath to be in the older woman's place. Men swarmed about her like bees to a queen, their unkind stingers lashing out. She cried out in protest, cursing them in three different languages, but no one listened. They beat her down until the victorious men seized her and began using her as Bane had thought they would use me.

Curses of frustration escaped the men who were not so lucky, but they started to back away. I whispered words of meaningless comfort to the little girl and scooped her up, keeping her body pointed towards the wall. Each step I took with her added weight caused every individual injury to sear with renewed pain, but I would not let the prisoners have the child as well. I kept my back to the inmates as they started to depart, slipping into the cell where Vinen and Ayham were staying. They locked their cell just before the riot, it seemed, and when they saw the child and I, they opened the gate enough for us both to slip in.

The sounds of rape were humbling in a sick sort of way. With each resounding slap to her skin, I winced. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually someone gagged her or her will broke because her screams silenced. Feral grunts were short-lived before I heard them turn into cried of their own. I risked a look over my shoulder and was mortified at what I saw.

Bane, red and heaving, held one of the men in place under his foot, another up in his left hand, and the third was cowering in front of him. He lifted his bare foot and crushed it into the inmate's nose, pushing cartilage into the sinus cavity. The man choking in his grip clawed and thrashed while Bane made a red mess of the one under his heel, obliterating any recognizable features into a crimson pool of gore. The man who shook ahead of Bane pissed himself then, scrambling to his feet in an attempt to thwart the attention he now had.

Bane had none of that. With his free hand he grabbed the would-be escapee by the thick of his neck and thrust him forward. _Once, twice, three times, four times!_ Bane spread bone, blood and greymatter all over the stone wall in front of him, effectively killing two of the three rapists. The last man, still dangling in the air by the throat where Bane held him, fell limp. Seeing the unforgiving deaths of his accomplices had wiped him of any hope. Instead of dashing him against the wall or floor like the other two, Bane spun around, still holding the man up above the floor, and exited the cell.

He moved away from us and stepped out to where the corpses of our previous attackers lay, in the circular pit of stairs. Inmates teamed around every level, frantic to find their keys and lock themselves away. When Bane roared his unintelligible cry of despair and rage, the whole prison stopped and fell silent. Every pair of eyes stared down at him and the frail rapist who was suspended over the edge of the guard rail. "WISIX!" he shouted with every last ounce of his rage, every man cringing at the simplest insult. "FILTH. FILTH. DIRT. SCUM." After a minute of his endless squalling, the man in his hand began to tremble and beg. "Do you know what I do to trash like you?" he hissed through his teeth at the inmate in his grasp.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DO WITH DOGS WHO THINK THEMSELVES DRAGONS?! DO YOU?!" He brandished the captive in his hand to the rest of the prison. "I DO THIS!" Bane grabbed the thrashing man with his other hand and lifted him over his head. The futile squeals of mercy fell on deaf ears as Bane threw the man with all his might, casting him across the pit into the stairs below. The fatal sound of splintering marrow was nauseating, and though I couldn't see the corpse from where I was crouched inside the cell, I could just as well imagine the scene.


	18. Do I Need Your Permission?

**Author's Note: Short chapter, I know. I'm sorry. If I'm lucky I'll get another one done tomorrow while I'm laying low at work. If not, expect one before Wednesday. I'm taking a vacation then, so you'll likely miss out for a week. But... Afterwards, look forward to MOAR! As always, I'm glad to see the reviews you give me, and I hope to get more from current followers and new ones alike. Rate, review, follow, and favorite, my dears! You're a writer's bread and butter!**

The child stirred in my arms, her feeble weeping simmering up to a boil again. Bane left the prison in a shocked silence, storming up into our cell to do whatever it was he intended to do. "Mawla," the four year old bawled, clawing at my neck and hiding her face in my chest, "Ommah... Bane." I hurt for the child. Surely her mother was dead after the assault that had just taken place, and I knew all too well the pain of being orphaned. She was younger than I was when I had lost my parents, but all the same, it was hurt that rendered everything else numb.

But, as I stood up and turned around, I noticed that the brutalized woman was crawling on her belly towards our cage. Awe was the first emotion I felt, but it was quickly overridden by a deep sense of obligation. Someone needed to help her. _Someone._ "Ayham!" I barked, sharper than I had meant to be, "Close the cell doors and help her, damn it!" The child perked up at the mention of said woman, but I couldn't let her see the wounded and violated state her mother was in. "No, child," I murmured, putting one hand to her eyes and turning her head against my breast.

She cried out again, banging her fists upon my body, but all I felt was the throb of my own wounds. Ayham and Vinen jumped into action, slamming the door shut so all four cells were under lock and key. The woman grabbed at their ankles but neither would acknowledge her until their workspace was safe. "Shhh," Ayham mused, foregoing all of his previous reservations about women and his Islamic religion. He put both of the woman's arms about his neck and heaved, half carrying and half dragging her to the bed in the opposite cell where patients and corpses were tended.

Any remaining energy to the mother fled the moment she fell onto the uneven cot. Her eyes lingered on the child for a few seconds, then fluttered closed as shock sapped the last of her will. Vinen shooed Ayham away from the patient, listing off items he needed to attend her, then rattling off more. I heard my own name muddled in the mix of words, but Arabic was still difficult to grasp when spoken so quickly. Ayham threw his own myriad of curses towards Vinen, but did as he was bade, ferrying the utensils over to the older doctor so he could address the mother.

"Woman!" Ayham growled at me, shaking my shoulder. I had been so entranced by the goings on that I hadn't heard him when he yelled at me the first time. I snapped my attention to him and tilted my head. "Put Talia on my bed, _humaq_. You're bleeding all over the child, _and _my floors." He was as amiable as ever. As I turned to do as he instructed with the new knowledge that the little girl in my arms was Talia, my left knee buckled and sent me stumbling. Ayham reached out and stopped me before I tumbled onto the ground and crushed her, but the pain still blinded me for a good few breaths before I could even contemplate rising again. "Hurry. You're going to bleed out if we do not stitch you up."

I nodded slowly, sucking in and holding the air until I could stand. Pushing myself up off my knee had to have been the hardest thing I'd done since coming to this forsaken place. Ayham kept his grip on me as I moved and set Talia on his cot, then he pushed me to Vinen's bed. "Lay on your belly first," he ordered, not too kindly. His hand pressed me onto the mattress, cool and indifferent to the cuts and gashes he grazed. Each touch was knowing as he cursed and grumbled to himself. The last words I heard was Vinen yelling for more gauze and Ayham saying it was needed for me, else I would die, and the faint whimpers of Talia wanting her mother.

After that, the darkness of sleep claimed me.

* * *

I awoke a couple hours later, when evening was falling, and immediately regretted it. Bandages littered the whole of my body, and I realized I was barely clothed. A blanket kept me covered, but underneath I was only in my undergarments. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, cringing when the shots of pain robbed me of my breath, and looked at my surroundings. Talia was still in the same place, although her back was turned to me and she was on her knees on the cot, clutching the bars and watching Vinen and Ayham argue.

"She will live, _Budalla,_" Vinen confirmed roughly, shaking a finger at his partner.

Ayham was not so optimistic. "They had to have stabbed her more than a dozen times, Vinen," he retorted, throwing his hand up towards where I lay, though keeping his eyes on his friend. "There is no way she will live. We will be lucky if she wakes another time before passing in the night. Melisande stands a better chance than that mess of a woman passed out on your bed."

Vinen shook his head slowly, visibly exasperated at the bleak view Ayham held. "She will live," he repeated, his tone more weary, "Bane will not let her die. Something about her-" His words faded as fatigue rose and claimed me again.

* * *

Night was in full bloom when next I roused. Everything was silent. I stared at the ceiling for a long while, just enjoying the fact that I was alive and breathing. A warm sensation in the crook of my left arm and side nagged at me suddenly, and as I turned to see the source of the problem, my eyes fell upon Talia. The little girl had curled up into me sometime while I was out. A whirlwind of emotions played through my head, but I settled on flattery. That was the one that made most sense.

As I rested my head back on the terribly uncomfortable pillow, I heard my name. I sat up instantly, careful of Talia and the fresh wounds parading over my skin, and found Bane crouched on his haunches on the outside of the cell. "Bane?" I asked, disbelieving. He nodded his head and placed one finger over his lips to shush me.

"Don't wake her," he whispered, gesturing to Talia who lay in the fetal position against me. In the dimness of night I could barely make out his features, but enough was visible for me to tell her was stricken with some foreign cluster of emotions he couldn't cope with. He remained still and silent for a long while, opening his mouth once or twice but unable to say what he'd thought of. Finally, when I had started getting dizzy from the exertion of remaining sitting up, he said, "You've been out for three days. Ayham said you were in a coma." His eyes darkened, even in the pitch of the dark hours.

With all the caring he could muster, and all of the selfishness he stuffed inside himself, he stared me down and growled through clenched teeth, "You do not have my permission to die. Not yet."


	19. We Cannot Admit Defeat

**Author's Note: LONG CHAPTER IS LONG. Rate, review, follow and favorite!**

The dull roar of afternoon swam around me as I stumbled into the waking world again. My dreams clung to my conscious mind with talons and teeth, unwilling to let me forget their images. _Did Bane really say that?_ I couldn't help but wonder. I half-thought it was just a hallucination, and the longer I go in this bed, the more I believe it. He hasn't been by since that night, and it's been a week from then according to Ayham.

"Talia was permitted to see her mother yesterday," he told me while he changed my bandages. "Melisande is healing, but her mind is..." His voice trailed off. I looked up at him, pressing him to finish, but he just shook his head. "She won't be the same, _Amra'a_. Something in her died." He went silent after that, concentrating on the strips of bloody cloth that were wrapped about my middle. When the fibers pulled away from the deeper gashes I couldn't help but wince and jerk away. The scabs had fused with the soiled linen and each one screamed in agonizing protest when it gave way.

"Could you be a bit more gentle?" I sneered, grinding my jaws together.

He laughed and waved me off in reply. "Quit being a woman about it. Would you rather we leave it and let you get an infection? I don't have the proper items to treat that."

"Fine," I relented, stuffing my tongue down my throat to mute a scream that was welling up. He was not exactly being forgiving with his ministrations. As the last of the bandages were pulled away, he held a blanket up to shield my body from the prison, and then looked me over.

"You have a long way to go," he concluded, staring at the puncture wounds that still teared up with blood. "But, you will be fine so long as we bind you tight for a while. Here," he shoved the blanket to me, "wrap up with this and go to the back cell so I can tend you without worrying about your parts being seen."

_Boy, he could be a poet with the way he describes things_, I thought sarcastically. With none-too-dignified a flourish I wrapped the itchy blanket around my shoulders and let Ayham heave me up onto my feet. The world spun about me quickly and bolts of light danced in my eyes, but we were back in business. Ayham shouldered me over to the cell where Melisande and Talia had been staying since their imprisonment, and had me lean up against the back wall for support to so only my backside was visible to anyone else who peered in.

"Keep still, and we may yet have you fixed up enough to go back to your cell," he huffed, milling about me with his smooth fingers. He mumbled under his breath thinking I could not hear him, "and then Bane can take care of you. You're his problem, not mine." The thought of being tended by Bane was as farfetched as the idea of winning against him in the tohaadii. 37 men had died since my sentence here, and of those, 22 were because of Bane fighting men to the death. No one bested him. He had something to live for, and though he would never admit it, he loved Talia and Melisande.

I pounded one fist against the wall, my thoughts shattered by Ayham's handling of a gash that still split open my middle back and right side. "Take it easy,_ humaq_," I ground out, using his Arabic term for "idiot" to emphasize my discomfort.

"Quit your belly-aching!" he snapped, smacking the back of my head, where little injuries could be hurt. "I have to ensure the wound will heal properly. The only way to do that is to touch it and finish stitching it closed. Bite on this if you must, but shut up,_ humaq budalla amra'a_."

_That was a new insult_, I observed wryly, keeping my pain-inspired wit to myself. I could gather it only meant "stupid idiotic woman", but it must have meant something more for Ayham was frowning when he said it. He held out a folded piece of leather towards my mouth and I gladly bit down. He scurried off then, searching his small box of medical supplies for some more thread and his stitching hook. I glanced over my shoulder to watch him and instead found that Bane was in the center cell, holding Talia on one shoulder and looking right at me. The scene was so alien and so... I couldn't even describe it, but it made me laugh at its inconceivable improbability. Bane! Pulverizer of all enemies and the most loathed (and respected) fighter in the Pit, holding onto a child with all the tenderness of a father. What?

I smothered my laughter before it could escape and turned one of my hands from the wall to wave. Every motion caused rivers of pain to course up my arm and into my shoulder, but Talia smiled when I acknowledged them, and that was enough. She waved back and Bane gave a nod of his head before moving the squirrely child into his hands to make as if she were flying. He went into the cell where Melisande lay and disappeared from my sight. Ayham came in no sooner than Bane left, and he held a spool of thread in one hand while the sewing hook gleamed in the other. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the cool stone wall and braced myself for the pain.

It wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. I kept the worst of the pain at bay with the methods Ra's had taught me when I was young. Steady breathing, detached thought, and turning the concept of pain into an incomprehensible idea. It worked for most of Ayham's stitching, but when he began to restitch the gouge to my left side under my breast, I clamped down on the leather and hissed. The flesh where he was working was more tender than I could have imagined, and each puncture and successive pull of the thread brought more pain to the forefront of my mind. My jaw ached with the strain I was putting on it in my attempts to keep from screaming. I remembered the hallucination of Bane then, telling me that I'm not allowed to die, and my fortitude doubled.

Suddenly the pain wasn't so terrible. Death was the easy way out, and though I knew I would never escape the prison, I could still do good and bring justice to this hole as any other of my Order would have done. Balance keeps the peace, even if the necessary steps towards balance are horrific and immoral. Ayham finished with my rib wound and started to mummify me with the boiled and dried strips of cloth that we'd used on me a week before. Being so far secluded didn't lend us much in regards to disposable medical supplies, but whoever it was who dropped the goods down to us each month was clear that no one was to die if the doctors could help it. Death was a release from this place, and none of us deserved it.

When Ayham was done doctoring his patient, he put his hand in front of my mouth and gestured for me ot drop the leather. I eagerly spat it out and pulled away from the wall, standing straight for the briefest of seconds before my vision went blank and everything fell silent.

* * *

"Bane!" Ayham yelled from the back cell, urgency in his voice. "Bane, you impudent dog! Get in here and help me!" Bane rose from his seat on the floor next to Talia and loped with great haste to where he found the salt and pepper doctor hunched, trying to pick up his cellmate, who was limp in his arms. "Help. Me," he said again, enunciating the syllables with voracious impatience. Bane knelt down and grabbed his companion around the waist and hefted her into his arms as if she were no more than a sack of potatoes.

"Back in Vinen's bed?" he inquired of the doctor. Ayham nodded and cursed as he pushed himself to his feet. When Bane put his friend down on the cot he sighed and turned back on Ayham, a disproving expression on his face. "What happened?"

Ayham sighed. "She likely moved too quickly and is still suffering from low blood content. The _humaq_ couldn't even wait for me to get under her." The doctor shook his head at the thought and stalked off, no doubt to where he could rain on someone else's parade. Talia peered into the cell from its doorway then, looking at him with her big brown eyes.

"Mawla, will your girlfriend be okay?" she asked innocently, mixing her English with the Arabic term she endeared to him.

Bane stared at her for the longest time, dumbfounded at the title she'd bestowed on his cellmate. "Talia, child," he finally said, his voice deceptively calm, "what do you mean by "girlfriend"?"

She looked back at him with an expression of bemusement. "A friend that is a girl, duh!" She wrinkled her nose at him and frowned.

The relief in his own mind was great, but a twinge of disappointment gripped his belly. _What is this?_ he thought angrily, unhappy with the feeling that plagued his insides. _I have no feelings for her other than knowing she is a good fighter to have at my back_. He denied anything else vehemently and focused on Talia. "She will be fine, child, don't worry. She can't die. I won't let her."

Talia smiled brightly at the news, but the expression was lost under the child remembering her mother. "Will Ommah be okay, too? You won't let her die either, right?" The desperation in her voice made him hurt for her.

In truth, Melisande wasn't too special to him. She came here and birthed Talia and had let him care for her in her infancy, when mothering was too much, but she had never expressed any explicit friendship towards him. He didn't try to press her either, since it was not in his nature to inquire of people unless it gained him something. Talia was his pride and his joy, with the exclusion of fighting and reading. Still, he cared for Melisande in much the same way an ex-lover would care for the mother of his child. No love was there, but he still felt a sense of obligation to keep her around for the sake of the youngling. "She will be fine, _nuur 'innaya_," he crooned, holding one hand out to her.

She was wary of contact since the attack almost two weeks ago, but Bane was still her friend and father figure, so she grinned sweetly and traipsed over to sit in his lap. "Mawla?" she said when they'd been resting in silence for a while.

"Yes, child?" he replied, looking down at her.

"When I grow up, will I be as strong as your girlfriend?"

"Stronger, my dear. You will move the stars and carry the dreams of men wherever you go."

"I don't want to move stars, though, Bane," she mumbled indignantly, "I just want to be Mawla like you and like her." She pointed to where his companion lay on Vinen's cot, her hair pooling around her face as she slept peacefully. "She saved me from the bad men, Mawla... I want to save myself next time."

Bane admired her mature ambitions. Most children would quail at the idea. Toys and playing pretend were more to the tastes of a child her age. "When your Ommah is better and my girlfriend," he twitched at the usage of the term, "is up and about, we will see about teaching you to keep the bad men away." Talia nodded and kept quiet for the rest of the afternoon, contenting herself with climbing atop him and mussing up his long tawny brown hair, which he had grown in to give his competitors an advantage against him. Pulling hair had been a trademark of many of the prisoners as it was degrading and painful. Two purposes served with one swift motion.

But, Talia liked his hair and spent many an hour learning from her mother on how to braid and knot and twist his hair into different shapes. On many occasions he looked emasculated and disgraceful, but he didn't care. So long as Talia was happy, he was happy. Today she just ran her fingers through the locks of his hair, pulling as gently as her childish impatience would allow for when she snagged her fingers in a knot. "Mawla," she finally said when evening was setting and her bedtime was closing in. "Can we eat together this time?"

"Of course, child, of course. Let me go fetch the food and then we can eat before bed." Bane pulled her from his shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek before he set her on Ayham's bed and left for the cell where the prison cook lived. Closest to where the ropemaster stood at his post, a small gated door was set into the stone, leading to a deep, musty rock-carved room. When Bane approached the door, the ropemaster stopped him.

"No one is allowed in," he reminded Bane, the menace unhindered in his native Spanish language. He held one of his dark toned arms out in front of Bane, narrowing his black eyes on him.

_Oh, how I would love to tear out that braid from your scalp, boy_, Bane thought, eying the thick lock that hung over the ropemaster's chest. "You know why I come this time, Lazaro," Bane replied with equal amounts of his own dissent. "Don't try to stop me or we will have to find a new master of the ropes."

"Hmph," was Lazaro's retort, but he withdrew himself from Bane and crossed his arms once more. "See that you don't start trouble."

Bane shoved the gate open and slammed it closed, emphasizing exactly how much he disliked the man and his childish desire to flaunt his position. The hallway in front of him was narrow and lengthy, leading deep into the earth before it gave way to the large room where the cook lived. The walls dripped with humidity and the smell of wet oats wafted from the back corner where a man shorter but wider set than Bane stood over a deep pot, stirring slowly.

"What can I do for you, Bane?" he asked without looking up, grabbing a handful of oats and tossing them into the cast iron pot. "You're not supposed to be in here. No one is. You know this." He stirred the frothy, simmering mixture once and then tossed a separate fistful of coals into the bed of already hot ones, stoking the cookfire.

"You know Lazaro hates the child," Bane explained, keeping his distance so the man wouldn't assume he was going to take anything by force. "Talia needs dinner tonight and my girlfriend is still down and out from her wounds. I'll take her share and give it to Talia."

The cook looked up from his work and quirked a brow at Bane. "Girlfriend?"

The word struck Bane hard. "Damn it," he growled under his breath. "It's the term Talia uses for my cellmate. Don't go getting any ideas."

The look on the cook's face said otherwise. "If you say so, big boy. Are you getting Vinen, Ayham, and the child's mother's food as well? And what of your own?"

"If you have a single bowl large enough to fit all the rations then yes, I am. Otherwise, no. Just Talia's and my own."

The cook fingered his lengthy sideburns and nodded, then went about his station, sifting through the few pieces of cookware that were left for him. "I have a bowl big enough, but it will cost you," he said, peering as Bane with his low browed expression of indifference.

"Trogg," Bane growled a forewarning, "don't test me. Lazaro knows better. I would hope that you do, too. What is it you want?"

Trogg held his hands up in defense. "Now, now, Bane. You know I'm fair. Who was the one who fed you as a child, when the other prisoners stole your food? Is that any way to treat a friend?" The gleam in the cook's eyes was predatory, but his tone was sincere. "I just want to meet your girlfriend when she's healed. Nothing more. You've told me of the woman, but I'm not allowed to talk about her to anyone else. I think that's a little unfair, don't you? Bring her in when she's better, and consider this," he held up the empty bowl, "a sign of good faith."

The anger that rose inside Bane was so strong and so deep that he had to turn away from Trogg to gather himself. If he did not, Bane couldn't be held responsible for the mess he would make of the cook and his wares. "You have a deal, but it will be on my terms when she comes. Tell Lazaro to expect me with company in a fortnight. I don't want to have either her or myself break him in two for his incompetance."

"Deal, then." Trogg filled the large bowl with the hot slop and handed it to Bane. "Here's your appetizer," he joked dryly. The cook then went to the opposite side of the room to the driest corner and pulled out four slabs of hardtack from a fold of dry cloth. With the hardtack in hand and a spoon from his belt, Trogg handed the items over to Bane and smiled his deceptively stupid grin. "Bon appetit, mon cheri," he goaded, then closed himself off and returned to stoking the coals.

It was just turning to the deep of night when Bane returned to Talia, food in hand. The prisoners he passed on his way eyed his copious amounts of sustenance but made no move to attack him. The death of the three rapists still held them at bay, for now. When he slipped into the cell with the doctors and Talia, they gathered in the center room and sat together, talking softly as they passed around the bowl so they could each take a bite. Everyone nibbled on their hardtack until Talia proposed a race to see who could finish it fastest. They all broke the rock hard food into equal pieces and smiled to each other. Talia whispered the start and then everyone was gnawing and salivating over their share, trying to win.

Even Ayham and Vinen appeared animated in their efforts. Clearly they all needed some sort of reprieve from the events of the past week and a half. Vinen was going through withdrawls from his opium addiction while still trying to tend to Melisande, and Ayham was ragged with changing Bane's cellmate's bandages when she was out most days. Bane helped when he could, but he had to keep an eye on his cell or else the plants he'd been tending for the past two years would die out. Talia was well enough despite the events, shining through the gloom as the ever resilient being she was. Bane could not say that he'd been the same. His mother birthed him here and chose to kill herself when Bane was no older than Talia was now.

That was likely the reason he snapped so completely when he noticed Melisande and Talia being attacked. He never wished his own hardships on another. That was a life best not lived. Before Bane could dwell on the past for too long, though, Vinen exclaimed in his quiet voice that he had beaten them, showing his empty hands and sticking his tongue out to show there was nothing left in his mouth. Bane had gotten down to his last few bites, Ayham had given up halfway through, cursing all three of them for their foolishness, and Talia had barely made any headway at all. She glowered at Vinen who smiled his wise smile. "You cheated," she accused in Arabic.

Vinen's gray eyebrows shot up. "I did no such thing, girl." The mere thought seemed appalling to him, but Bane thought that there may be some credability to the accusation.

"I see crumbs on your robe, Vi-Vi," she went on, pointing at the trail of hardtack dust that hemmed the neck of his robe.

The usage of her nickname for Vinen softened the crinkles around his eyes. "Fine, fine," he conceded, "I give up." He reached into the fold of his robe and pulled out a barely eaten chunk of the floured food. "You are too smart for your own good, little lady," he grumbled, taking a good sized bite out of the piece he'd hidden.

"She just knows not to be swindled by an old man," Bane chortled softly, patting Vinen on the shoulder.

"More like a cheater can identify a cheater," Ayham pointed out, reaching over to grab inside the sleeve of Talia's left arm. He pulled out a chunk of the hardtack and tossed it into her lap. Talia turned red in the dark but said nothing, smiling her sheepish grin. "I know you all too well to think this was a straight game." With that revelation Ayham let his lips turn up in a smirk and continued to munch on his own food, pushing the half-full bowl of gruel back towards Bane. "Let us finish the food before it's cold."

They ate in comfortable silence after that, passing the bowl around until Talia fell asleep sitting up. "Put her with the woman," Vinen rasped when Bane lifted Talia into his arms.

"Melisande? That's where I was going."

"No. Put her with your friend, Bane. Her mother is still in shock."

"Will she ever come out of that?" Bane thought she would. She was the wife and lover to a great man from what she and his cellmate had said.

Vinen shrugged. "I do not know. It will be soon if she does, but I just don't know."

"We're healers of the body," Ayham added, "not of the soul."

* * *

_"You've been out for four more days, child,"_ a throaty voice hummed in my ears. _"Get up. The world will not wait for you."_

I huffed a soft reply of uncaring, rolling onto my side to curl up with the warm mass that lay in the curve of my side. Through the haze of half-sleep I could tell it was Talia, but the voice remained a mystery.

_"Get up,"_ the voice urged. In the dark of my wakeful dreams I saw a face come into view. _"Get up, sister. Daughter. Get up."_ A tall man of lean but slender stature formed in front of me, his deep blue eyes focused on me from underneath his wispy brows. An equally wiry brown and gray goatee framed his thin lips and stuck downward from his chin. When he spoke again, I knew exactly who it was. _"Child, you cannot waste your time here, in the dark. The dark is your ally, but only the darkness of life. Not this,"_ Ra's held his arms out in a gesture encompassing the pitch of my unconsciousness._ "This is the gloom of death, and it will claim you if you don't wake up."_

My eyes fluttered open and I found I was staring directly at Bane, who had his mouth open and his hand on Talia, who lay curled up asleep in my arms. It was just starting to turn to the light of morning. "What?" I grumbled, my words hoarse.

"Vinen said you were dead," Bane whispered, hazel eyes glittering with a swirl of confused emotions. "I was getting Talia so we could wrap you and send you up."

Memories of when they wrapped up Zahid, Amar, and the other kills Bane and I had made over the past two years came back unbidden and I shuddered. "No thank you, love. I'm still breathing."

"I see that," he poked at my side with a wry grin.

I winced but giggled a little. "If not for the fact that it's you, I would have broken those fingers for that," I grimaced, pushing myself up from the cot to stretch. "How long has it been since the attack?"

"Just over two weeks."

"Oh good, then I can get up. I'm starving and I need to pee like nobody's business."

Bane pulled his brows together and pressed his lips into a fine line, amused and slightly put-off by my honesty. "Thank you for the imagery. I will leave you to it, then." He reached around Talia and slowly scooped her into his arms and sat on the cot opposite where I lay.

I put my hands to the side of the cot and forced myself up onto my feet. Hunger and thirst made me dizzy and faint, but this time I stayed conscious. "Where the hell do I piss, Bane?" I asked harshly, more rough than I'd truly intended.

"Our cell. Dress quickly and move quietly and no one should disturb you." He held my key out towards me. I wrapped my fingers around it and Bane let go, but latched his hand around my wrist, holding tight. "No one knows your a woman. I don't know how you kept it hidden during the riot, but no one knows except the cook and everyone in here."

"I hide myself well," I shrugged, pulling away from him. He kept his grip tight and eyed me for what felt like forever.

"I told you that you didn't have my permission to die just yet," he growled, a note in his voice betraying the anger to something I couldn't recognize. He pulled me down towards him and embraced me with his free arm in a tight, conflicted hug. The effort it took for him to express himself had to have been immense. Through the bout of dizziness he'd elicited from me when he pulled me down, I returned his touch with a feeble hug of my own, pressing my forehead into the crook of his neck.

"Don't scare us like that again, damn it," he whispered, then pushed me away and cast his eyes down.


	20. False Hope

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I had a long work week and I get to work 50 hours in the next five days. I hope this is enough for you, my dear readers! Rate, review, follow, and favorite as per the usual! Tell your friends about this. I would love for more people to read this. Have a good day, friends. Thanks for stoppin' by!**

My head spun with confused delight. _What had just happened?_ Two full celestial rotations and a handful of months with the bastard, and not once did he manage to express something like this. The look in his eyes was enough for me to get the hint; It took more of Bane than he could give to touch me the way he just had, but still he hugged me. "I- I won't," I managed to mutter before scurrying off to relieve myself. I glanced back once and saw him looking towards me with a conflicted gleam in his eyes, and my heart fluttered with unclear hurt.

The urge to pee was so great that when I flew from the doctor's coop, I ran headlong into one of the other inmates and knocked him down as he was locking up his own cell for the day. "Sorry!" I called as I spun away from the heap he'd fallen into. He growled some curses at me, but I was already up the stairs and unlocking my own cell, so his laments fell on deaf ears. After I relieved myself, I ran my fingers through my unkempt hair to tame it and stretch out my stiff limbs. Two weeks of bed-rest and little motion caused my muscles to bunch and the run up the stairs had hurt more than it should have.

Upon that thought I grimaced. I would have to double the amount of effort I put into my exercise in order to fix the downtime I'd been forced to endure. "Damn my bleeding heart," I said under my breath as I put my right arm over my head and pulled it. The crunch and pop thereafter sent painful shivers down my spine. My body was **not** happy with me. With all of my stretching done and my wounds seeping their red tears despite my best efforts, I turned to tend the plants Bane had no doubt neglected since my incapacitation.

To my surprise, the plants were as healthy as ever, shining their green, white, and red hues back at me with their dim consciousness. The fact that they'd survived while I was gone said two things: one, Bane had watched me carefully when I cared for the plants, and two, he obviously enjoyed the company of the little things more than I had initially thought. Over the past two years they'd given us more than our fair share of dinners and sweets in the prison, and neither he nor I were willing to let them go to waste so easily.

Back in the washroom I brought each plant to the small faucet and wet the soil enough to feed them for a day or two. When I finished the small bit of my old daily ritual, I filled up the unbolted basin with water and wet my hair. I had gone too long without getting the grit of dirt, sweat, and God only knows what else out of it. By the time I had my crazy hair cleaned and fingered out to the back of my head, the water was a dark brown and smelled rancid. I grimaced and loathed to see the water when I washed my skin off.

My wounds were clean enough, but I doubted that either doctors had the integrity to bathe me while I was under. The mere inclination of Bane doing it made me laugh aloud to myself. He was a brave son of a bitch, but he would quail at the prospect of washing the naked frame of a woman in the same way the doctors would. I had to somehow make it back to Vinen's cells to get the dirty bandages replaced or I'd end up as stinky as the bowl of water at my feet. I dumped the dirty water into the drain in the back corner of the washroom and replaced the basin so it could fill again.

With the bowl on the fill, I started undoing the bandages and setting them aside. The worn undergarments Ayham left on me were pleated with week-old sweat and caked in blood. I wrinkled my nose as I smelled the true scent of scum and shed the rotten clothing before I threw up. Thankfully the washroom was in the back of the cell and hidden by a thick woolen curtain, otherwise I'd have just bared my nakedness to the entire prison.

* * *

He opened the cell slowly and with quiet skill. Bane heard something that made his skin prickle with anticipation. The water was running and he heard the slosh of liquid being moved, but that wasn't what had his hackles raised. Despite all her time here, his cellmate risked herself by doing what she was doing now. Her feminine voice carried softly over the rush of water in the pipes and he heard the high tempest of her emotions through the soprano whisper she used to sing out her song. "Life it seems, will fade away, drifting further every day..." she mourned in her own world, the seams of her being laid bare. "Getting lost within myself. Nothing matters, no one else."

Bane sat down on his cot silently, listening with a learned ear. He could find out so much by the words she chose to say, and the way in which she sang them. "I have lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give. There is nothing more for me. Need the end to set me free..." He frowned as she hummed to the music in her head. He had never thought her a pessimist or one who likened to giving up, but her words... He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in angry discontent. _This woman confounds me to the ends of the earth,_ he thought.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end upon her next words. "Things are not what they used to be, missing one inside of me. Deathly lost, this can't be real, cannot stand this hell I feel. Emptiness is filling me, to the point of agony. Growing darkness taking dawn, I was me, but now he is gone..." The clink of the faucet turning off and water dripping caused Bane to stiffen. What exactly was she doing in there? Drinking up the Nile?

* * *

I felt loads better with the muck of sedentary life cleaned from my skin. The cuts and stab wounds were still crying their anger at me, but with the risk of infection down to a new low, I didn't care. The water was indeed as gross as I had anticipated, but thankfully I didn't have to drink the stuff. I poured the filth down the drain and shook off. The water made the hot air feel good. For a long moment I just stood there and enjoyed the sensation of being alive and bereft of any real worry.

While I had washed off, I took the time to rinse out my small clothes which were now their original worn black rather than the earlier matted red-brown. Though they were still wet, I put them on, thankful for their own sense of coolness. As I put on the top half of my underclothes I heard the shuffle of feet just outside the washroom. I froze in place, listening hard. _Who the hell could it be_? I was sure that I had locked the gate.

"Cover up," a voice lulled from outside the cell. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden command, my senses blatantly dulled from the time I spent dead to the world.

"Damn it, Bane," I growled out, pulling the divider aside and glaring at him. I yanked out the single box under my bed and shouldered into the only other set of robes I owned. "I don't need you babying me. Skit, scat, ski-doodle. Go on." I waved my hands at him dismissively. "I'll be down in a minute. I need to get patched up again before I do anything else."

"After that, you are coming with me." The way he said it left no room for me to argue.

"Fine, fine. Are you my escort?" I sneered the last word and smiled at him wryly.

He wasn't so impressed with my humor. "I'm your insurance." Bane was back to his sour self again.

"Ooh," I mocked, waving my hands in the air. "Well, fine. Let's get this over with." I pulled the indigo hood over my head and tucked my wet hair into the fabric, following Bane out and back down to where the doctors and their two patients remained.

"There you are, _humaq_!" Ayham chided, giving a not-too-kind smack to my shoulder when we returned. "I checked your pulse and eyes just last night and you were dead! Don't do that again, _budalla!_ How would we have told Talia that her newest Mawla had gone and died before she could thank you?" He scolded me with the same fervor as ever, which despite the aggravating way he did it, made me smile. If Life came at the cost of the graying man barking at me, it was a small price to pay.

I winced when he started checking under my clothing at the bleeding injuries and slapped his hands away. "Give me a minute, Ayham. You could let me move to the back before you undress me." My implied suggestion caused the doctor to scowl at me with repulsion. I laughed my own reply to his expression and made my way to the back cell where Talia sat in the corner, playing a game by herself.

"Out, child," Ayham shooed the little one away, but Bane ducked his way in and stopped her.

"I have her, old man. Do your job, and I'll do mine."

Ayham "harumphed" but said nothing more as he started inspecting my wounds with a trained eye. "Did you purposefully tear these open again, _amra'a_? You're bleeding and this cut," he fingered the gash along my ribs and succeeded in making me cringe despite my mind blocking the pain, "is never going to heal if you don't take it easy. Do you want to die?" He ignored me when I shook my head and shuffled away to grab the clean linens he'd use to wrap me up again.

"That man stresses over every little thing," I grumbled to myself, which elicited a laugh from Bane.

"It comes with the territory. You should have seen Vinen when I first met him."

It took a moment for my memory to kick in, but from one of the conversations the older doctor had with me, he had mentioned he'd been in here since just after he became a doctor. That was more than 20 years ago. _I wonder how old they were when they both met,_ I questioned internally, peering over to where Bane sat. He had his back up against the bars with Talia on his shoulders, tousling his tawny brown hair into all sorts of comical shapes.

It was my turn to giggle. He frowned at me in response and pulled Talia's hands away. "It's not funny, woman," he barbed, eyes alight with a storm of embarrassment. The slight change to his expression made me laugh all the more. Bane! Strongest of the prison and looming predator of the Pit was _embarrassed_! His whole being coiled up in anger as I chuckled at his expense.

"Mawla, don't get mad at other Mawla," Talia pouted, poking her index finger right onto the tip of his nose. "Mawla is not being mean, so you don't be mean either."

My sides hurt with the incredulity of the situation. Not only was Bane turning pink, but he was being scolded by a four year old! Today couldn't get any better. I stuffed down another bout of laughter as I caught sight of Ayham returning with the new bandages. He looked at the dark expression on Bane's face, then to Talia who smiled so sweetly, and finally to me. I snickered knowingly, but said nothing and lifted my arms so he could start covering the more serious wounds about my middle.

* * *

Talia would be the death of his reputation if she kept up her careless whimsies around him. As much as Bane would like to stop her, the small piece of him that still remained soft compelled him to let her be. It took the better part of an hour for Ayham to be satisfied with the new bandages he put on Bane's roommate, but finally they could go and meet Trogg. Bane wasn't looking forward to it, but a deal was a deal, and he intended to keep his side of the bargain.

"Alright, old man. She is fine, leave her be," he said, pushing himself up off the floor and handing her the robes again. She took them gratefully and dressed, testing her flexibility which caused Ayham to sneer with a rather large bout of foul language. Both Bane and his cellmate waved him off and then she fell in line behind him.

"What are we doing?" she asked him just before they stepped out of the safety of the doctor's cells. Bane shrugged and started down the steps. "Bane. Do I need to be ready to fight or what?"

He returned her question with silence. He heard her huff impatiently behind him, but she kept her tongue still after. Lazaro stood his vigil as they approached the ropemaster's high alcove, as stoic and chiseled as the stones he leaned against. "Who is this you bring with you, Bane?" he ground out when they were close enough to hear.

"None of your business, _cabrón_," Bane replied in an equally menacing tone.

Lazaro reddened and pushed himself away from the wall to stand over the ledge of the rope platform. "Say that to me again, _amigo,_" he hissed through clenched teeth, the faint lilt of his Spanish accent playing over his threat.

"_Tu eres la venida que tu madre se olvido de tragar, cabrón. Yo no soy su amigo._" Bane smiled a deadly grin and tensed. The insult would rouse the ropemaster to his full extent, and Bane would not let him catch either of them off guard.

True to form, Lazaro's face turned the shade of blood before he lunged down at Bane. Bane sidestepped the full weight of the Ropemaster and let him regain his footing before grabbing the Latino by his braid and stopping him in place. Lazaro fought against the death grip on his hair, but Bane wouldn't relent as he danced out of the way of Lazaro's fists. He brought Lazaro low with a strong knee to his abdomen and then let him crumple to his knees. "_Usted tiene la fuerza de un niño. Mi amigo está herido y podría haber superado a tu, mujer_."

Without another thought, Bane grabbed his celly by the middle and led her into the hall where Trogg, the cook, lay in wait. The adrenaline in his blood would keep his senses keen should the shady chef have something malicious planned, which Bane had a bad feeling he did.


	21. Fair

**Author's Note: I'm sorry if this is a short and terrible chapter. I wrote it while at work, when we had some downtime between software updates. Rate, review, follow and favorite! Thank you all for the reviews you do give. It makes this all worthwhile. If I get a bunch in the next few chapters, I have a surprise for everyone... (dun dun duuuuun)**

"So, this is where our food comes from?" she inquired, though the question was posed rhetorically. Bane gave a curt nod in reply and placed himself in front of her as they slowly trekked into the musty hallway. He would keep her out of harms way while she was still wounded because with all of his instincts screaming, it felt like it was a woefully ignorant idea to bring her here so soon. "It smells like moldy flour water and feet in here," she murmured indignantly.

Bane smirked to himself at the perception of the smell. She had the most peculiar opinions. To him it smelled more like steel, dough, and a bit of mold. But, perhaps that was left up for debate. "Don't worry about the smell. Just keep light on your toes and don't trust the cook," he instructed, taking his own advice and stepping forward carefully on the balls of his feet. "Trogg isn't malicious, but neither is he out for anyone but himself."

She scoffed at that. "Trogg? What kind of name is that?"

"A name you should fear, considering his hands are in our food."

The comment succeeded in settling his roommate's indignation. "I suppose you're right. Why are we coming in here, though? What does he want?"

"To meet the illustrious woman who tamed the beast named Bane, of course!" Trogg boomed from his corner as they crossed the threshold into the large stone kitchen hall. The low-browed chef grinned and one of his capped teeth shone in the light of the coal fire as they approached him. He was shirtless and ever as hairy as the ape he personified.

Bane frowned as the cook attempted to move close to his cellmate. Bane sidestepped and placed himself just in front of his cellmate and crossed his arms. "A deal is a deal, and I make good. What is it you really want?"

The burly chef ignored Bane completely. Thrusting a hand out to the woman, he grinned. "It _is_ a pleasure. What is your name, lovely flower?"

"Her name is of no importance, _butcher_. Get to the point here."

From behind Bane, she growled. "I can handle myself, Bane. Ratchet down. Geez." To the cook, she stepped out and clasped his hand with enthusiasm. "While I agree my name isn't important, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you. It's been far too long a time I think?"

Trogg boomed his hearty chuckle. "You found yourself a feisty one, didn't you, Bane?" He looked from him then to her. "It has indeed been far too long. I hope the food has been to your delicate palate's taste?" The grin on his face was snarky but sincere.

Bane did not like the way the conversation was going. Trogg was too confident. Too full of himself. "For gruel and hardtack, it's liveable. I'll admit I miss pizza and chocolate, but I'll live. So..." his roommate glanced up to Bane with a knowing eye. He saw that she could sense the wrongness of the whole situation as well. "What can I do for you in my disorderly state, Chef?" She mimicked Bane's stance, but in a manner more nonchalant than her counterpart.

Trogg hummed with contemplation before responding. "I would like to procure your plants. I would pay a fair price, and offer you some of the trimmings now and again, but..." a curious gleam lit in the back of his amber eyes as he fingered the spiked around his wrists, "I must have them. It is not fair to any of the other prisoners that you keep those lovelies to yourself."

She frowned. This wasn't what she had thought the meeting would be about, Bane could see from the corner of his eye. "To be fair, they're-"

"Not hers," Bane finished. "They're mine, and they're not for sale. Not for trade, either. You know better than to think you could manipulate me. And you of all people know this place isn't fair." _To think he would even try that route with me around is an insult_, Bane thought angrily. He had been here since he was born. _Nothing_ about the Pit was fair.

"Don't get so tense, Bane," Trogg scolded, smiling grimly.

"BANE!" a thick voice bellowed from the depths of the hallway behind them.

Trogg looked at both of them with one quirked brow. "Who did you piss off, now?"

"The ropemaster," his cellmate finished for him. Bane turned to confront Lazaro, who could be heard loping down the hall with his heavy steps. She remained at his back, instinctively keeping Bane's rear protected should Trogg have planned this and wanted to surprise them.

"What did you do, boy?" Trogg growled, suddenly serious.

Bane shrugged his shoulders. "You forgot to tell your dog that we were coming like I told you to. He raised his tail and I yanked it down, so to speak."

The implications of his statement were not lost on his companion. She laughed darkly. "Literally is more like."

Lazaro emerged from the mouth of the hall then, face dark with untempered rancour. "Estás muerto, Bane," he declared with every fiber of his being. "I will send you up the rope in pieces."

Bane kept his eyes level with the ropemaster and watched him speculatively. He made no response to the prediction, as he already knew who would win. _He is ruled by anger,_ Bane recalled, and he turned his body perpendicular to Lazaro's wide stance. "Do I need to intervene?" she piped up from behind him, ignoring Trogg who was stepping back towards where the coals were dancing under the cooking pot.

"Not unless you want me to break your fingers, niña," Lazaro sneered before Bane could reply.

"Oh no, you didn't just say that, boot licker," she snarled back, ducking out from behind Bane to face the ropemaster herself.

"Don't let him goad you," Bane warned, putting one hand up in front of her.

Lazaro took his chances then and leaped forward for her, which both Bane and his cellmate avoided with little difficulty.

* * *

The large Spaniard was driven, of that I was sure. As Bane and I parted ways to avoid the full force of his attack, Bane lashed out to grip his braid again, but found only air. The braid was wrapped around his throat. Apparently he'd wisened up in the few minutes it took for him to rouse from his previous beating. I gave the man no time to regain his footing and jabbed a quick set of blows to his ribs. It didn't do much damage given how long I'd been out, but it was enough to draw his attention to me. "_Puta_," he purred with sick intent, "I'm going to bend you until you break and then I will feed you to the prison."

"Not likely," both Bane and I responded, causing the ropemaster to tense. Bane moved forward swiftly and grabbed for Lazaro's arms, but he shrugged away and threw his fist out towards me. My reflexes _felt_ as quick as they should have been, but I was way too slow in reality. His knuckles grazed my forearms as I brought them close to guard and passed right through, burrowing into my stomach with blinding strength. I reacted quickly to the blow and let out all the air in my lungs, but damn if it still didn't cause my whole body to sing with pain.

With him now in range of my own attacks, I reached out and smashed my fingers into his eyes. He recoiled in an attempt to flee my move, but Bane was behind him, gripping the Latino's forearms and trying to wrestle them back, thus he could go nowhere. Lazaro grunted and groaned as I pressed the pads of my thumbs right into his sockets while Bane got a better grip on his arms. "Get off me, _puta_! You two fight like rats!"

I wrenched my fingers into his skull and he wailed. "And you hit little girls, _cabrón_," Bane snapped back, flexing his arms tight and causing Lazaro's right shoulder to pop out of place.

* * *

"Damn it!" Lazaro screeched, thrashing against Bane with all his strength. When his struggles proved futile, Lazaro picked up his left leg and thrust it out into the small frame of Bane's cellmate. Her small frame tumbled and rolled until she slammed into the wall. Bane saw she was still breathing, but other than the faint rise and fall, she was still.

After the scare earlier today, Bane would not have this sickening turn of the tables take her life when she only just got it back. _It wasn't fair._ "If you die, woman, I'll kill you!" Bane roared, turning his attention to Lazaro who leaned forward and smashed the back of his head into Bane's nose. "Shit!" he cursed, feeling the crunch of his snout caving in. Blood exploded into his throat, but still he would not let the writhing Spanish man go.

"Get. The fuck. Off!" Lazaro cursed, throwing his head back again. Bane was prepared this time, and dodged the blow, sinking his teeth into the ropemaster's ear and yanking. Crimson on crimson spilled over Bane's face as the fleshy appendage pulled free of Lazaro's head. A guttural wail bubbled out of his throat as the pain assailed him completely.

Bane's cellmate was trying to rise now, he could see from the peripherals of his vision. She struggled to regain herself, but it looked like a losing battle. Her robes were already tinting red in a handful of places, and it looked like her arm was broken. Trogg was moving around to her like a predator stalking wounded prey, a thick knife in hand. Through the film of vermilion that swam in Bane's vision, the next events were barely a blur to him. He vaguely saw that he was hefting the Spaniard up off the ground and kneeing him in the lower spine, tossing him aside so Lazaro could writhe in splintering pain.

Bane thrust himself forward, away from where his previous target heaved in his agony, and shoved his shoulder into Trogg, smashing the man into the wall with all his might. Trogg grunted with the force and dropped the blade, but he did not give up. "Boy, you better back up before-"

Bane's fist stopped the wretch from finishing his threat, and the clink of teeth clattering against stone followed when he pulled his hand away. He put his bloody fist back in the chef's throat again, but the rampage was shortlived under the introduction of a blazing white pain that webbed up his back. He looked down over his shoulder to see a thin sliver of metal protruding from his lower back. Lazaro was on his knees just behind him, panting and cringing in pain with every breath. "You're not getting out of this one, boy," Trogg groaned through the globules of blood that spurted from the empty holes where his teeth used to be.

The effort it took to hold onto Trogg was getting more taxing by the second and it looked like his cellmate wouldn't be able to get up without help. She was still in the same place, bleeding on the floor with her head cradled in her unbroken arm. _Come on, woman! Get up! You're not this weak!_


	22. Get Your Priorities In Line!

**Author's Note: You better love me! I have some terrible tendonitis and carpal tunnel at the moment, but I still managed to get this typed up before bed. Haha. It's shorter than I'd have liked, but I couldn't leave you all with a cliffhanger for too long. So here you go! Rate, review, follow and favorite. But, especially review. A few more reviews and that surprise I mentioned... I'll reveal it! As always, thank you for stopping by!**

Bane danced dangerously close to death between the cook and the ropemaster. Lazaro rose unsteadily to his feet and reached out for the shiv still buried in Bane's back. Bane did not allow the Latino to latch on, however, and danced away from both his enemies, scooping up his cellmate in the process. She groaned and threw up the acidic contents of her stomach, upchucking the collection of lifeblood that signified an internal injury. _Damn it, damn it,_ his mind screamed as Trogg pulled Lazaro up from the floor. "If I die because of you, woman," Bane grunted, trying to put his cellmate upright, "I'm going to haunt you in every world you inhabit. Now, on your feet!"

Despite his promise, Bane never thought he'd actually get her to comply. But, when he let her go, she swayed on her own two feet, flourishing the blade that Trogg had dropped moments ago. _I'll be damned,_ he thought incredulously, _she thought three steps ahead even while wounded._ The silver shard in Bane's back was beginning to do more damage the longer he left it in, and as he watched Trogg approach his left and Lazaro move to attack his companion, Bane reached back with one hand and gripped the slick metal fragment and wrenched it free. The wound vomited a thick trail of blood, but with the impeding shiv gone, Bane felt much better.

He focused his attention on Trogg, who was still unharmed for the most part. His face was smeared with cuts and blood, but other than that, he was clean of wounds. Bane turned himself adjacent to Trogg's large gait and prepared for the worst. The chef loped forward in an attempt to grab him, but Bane was ready. As he reacted and clamped his hands down on Trogg's forearms, Bane realized that between the time Trogg leaped forward and the time Bane grabbed him, his cellmate had thrown the blade and lodged it deep into the cook's neck and shoulder. He looked stricken as Bane grabbed the hilt of the butcher's knife and wrenched it free, tossing it away carelessly.

The fountain of blood was nauseating. Bane much preferred the crunch of bone to the squelch of blood and organs. He couldn't dwell on the thought for too long, though. Lazaro had his cellmate in an arm lock with her broken arm pulled tight behind her. The expression of pure agony on her face was smothered by her furious desire to live. She thrashed and twisted, using the give from her broken bones to turn out of the restraints. She bit down on Lazaro's fingers and kicked into the ribs that had already been bruised by her earlier attack. The ropemaster hissed in pain and danced back. "_Ti mierda de pollo, bajos fondos, amarillo vientre alcantarilla puta!_"

"Suck my dick, boot licker," she barked back, spitting a thick glob of bloody saliva at him.

Bane was perplexed by the swift change in events. He'd come down here thinking Trogg wanted to meet his cellmate simply to try and coerce her into sleeping with him in exchange for food. Bane knew she wasn't so stupid and easy to sway, and he'd thought they could shut down the cook before things got out of hand, but now... Not only would the prison have to appoint a new cook, but a new ropemaster as well. Lazaro could not be allowed to live. Bane was done with watching their exchange. She was falling apart and still proving herself to be as formidable as ever and Bane had to intervene or watch her bare her fangs until she died.

"I never thought you a woman beater, Lazaro. Did you get tired of everyone else making you take it up the ass?" Bane laughed smugly, crossing his arms and straightening up, not letting the ensnaring ache of the stab wound inhibit his imposing demeanor. The locks of rusty brown hair on Bane's head were matted to his skull with sticky blood, giving him a veil that darkened his features into a mask of primal fury. Lazaro's shoulders raised in a display similar to a lion bristling his hackles. The insult had grabbed him by the _cojones_ and drew him away from Bane's ally. "Don't make the same mistake twice, woman," he warned, waving her back as she started to circle close.

"Bugger off, Bane," she huffed, the exhaustion of her body completely devoid in her voice.

_She is too persistent for my own good,_ Bane noted drily. "It's your funeral."

"And yours, too," Lazaro interjected, shuffling forward and throwing a low kick out towards the leg that was closer to the side where Bane had been stabbed. His attack made contact and Bane buckled, but the ploy had succeeded. He grabbed the Spaniard by the knee and pulled him down, giving his companion the perfect opening to finish off the death dance.

* * *

The two burly men fell together in a pile of muscled limbs and gnashing hands. I had only one chance to end this. My right arm was useless, but I had favored my left anyways, so that didn't inhibit me. I waited, frantically scanning for the precise opening. _There!_ my instincts cheered and I jumped into action. Lazaro was just starting to gain ground on Bane and he left his neck open, where the long braid of his hair still curled around twice. _You've strung up your own noose, dog,_ I thought with more satisfaction than I should have felt.

I strode into the fray with the grim confidence of death weighing on my shoulders, snatching the back of his braid in my hands and pulling back, hard. I twisted my hand to the side, tightening the rope of his own hair around his throat in a mortal vice. His reaction was swift, but Bane anticipated the ropemaster trying to use his arm strength to rend my hand free. Bane clamped Lazaro's hands under his own arms and held the imposing Latino in place. We both watched the angry Spanish man turn a lethal shade of purple and blue as the seconds ticked by and he suffocated under his own mane of hair. The cruel irony was not lost on either of us.

Slowly the life ebbed out of him and he quit resisting. "Should we kill him?" I had to ask, thinking that if the ropemaster was dead, we couldn't get anymore food.

"Yes. Don't hesitate. Kill him." Bane's voice was cold. Bitter.

I frowned despite the circumstances. "But, you said it yourself; he's quick to anger. Don't you think we could have avoided this if you didn't poke the sleeping bear?"

Beneath the lock of my hand Lazaro started to list to the side, his eyes bulging.

"Just kill him! Don't second guess now!" Bane grunted angrily. But I couldn't. Something inside my gut told me if I did kill him, I would _never_ get out of here. Bane roared a mouthful of curses so foul that they almost made me blush when I let go of Lazaro's braid and he slumped onto the cold stones beside Bane and heaved, gasping for breath. "You stupid woman!" Bane berated me, slapping me across the face hard enough that my vision swam. He scrambled towards where the two blades lay in the corner, and I had to force myself through the haze of stars to beat him to it. "Get out of my way."

"I think I'll pass." I put one of my feet over the slick butcher knife and placed myself in front of the shiv, daring Bane with my eyes to _try_ and take the weapons.

* * *

For all the infuriating things she'd done over the years, this one act of defiance had to take the cake. She was refusing to let him kill Lazaro. _She has to be the stupidest, most ill-timed of compassionate people I have ever met_, he thought with fiery regret. His anger dissipated though, when she collapsed in front of him, out cold from the compounded injuries. "I should have never brought you here," he mumbled, catching her just before she hit the ground. He spared one glance over to where the ropemaster still lay in the fetal position, clawing for breath, and shook his head. Bane couldn't take care of both problems and even with his every primal urge telling him to kill Lazaro while he was crippled, he strode away with his friend in his arms, back to the doctors and the only other person he would die for.


	23. Nightmares and Dreamscapes

**Author's Note: OH SUH-NAP! What's goin' on here?! Four chapters in 4 days? Love me something good, readers! Rate, review, follow and favorite! Reviews are what keep me going despite my carpal tunnel. (21 with carpal tunnel? Lamesauce)**

The prisoners parted and scrambled to get out of his way as Bane strode from the cook's hall up to the doctors. A couple questioned him, but the deadly look in his eyes silenced their nosy curiosity. One prisoner in particular continued to question, but when Bane stopped moving, the bald man licked one corner of his fine moustache and quit his verbal assault. "Sorry, brah," he dismissed, moving out of his way.

"My god! What did you do to her, Bane!?" Ayham reeled when they came into view. In his arms Bane held her close, frustrated to the point of blindness at her strength and willingness to defy him and cause more problems. Just this morning he had come to terms with her death, only to find she wasn't dead at all. If she died now, he would not be able to cope. _Talia_ wouldn't be able to cope. Bane stepped back abruptly when Vinen started behind him and touched the deep gouge in his back.

"Help her, old man," Bane growled, stepping past the two medicine men and setting his cellmate on Ayham's bed. "I will live so long as I can stanch the blood. Help her." His voice was monotone, absent of the turmoil of emotions he felt inside. One overriding feeling that he couldn't name was causing him to shake. It made his chest hurt and his stomach clench. Ayham watched him skeptically from the corner of his eyes, but made no response as he stepped around the injured frame of Bane's cellmate.

"What happened, boy?" Vinen breathed as he joined his apprentice near the broken woman.

Bane shook his head. They didn't need to know what happened until the evening was out. The fatigue from the adrenaline was weighing on his limbs the longer he stood around idle, and he needed to put the ropemaster down before he made friends. "I'll be back," he told them and made to leave,

"She's not breathing," Vinen said, so soft that Bane almost didn't hear it as he started to walk away. His breath hitched in his throat as dread and immeasurable anger shot like lightning down his spine and into his chest. He stopped in place and stared hard down at the prone corpse of his cellmate and friend. "Ayham, lay her straight and check her ribs before we try to bring her back." Vinen tilted her head straight and helped Ayham position her body in a better place before they both fingered each rib and checked her sternum.

"Mawla," Talia's small voice whimpered from the cell in the back, "what's wrong with other Mawla?" Her eyes were red as she peered up at Bane, touching his large fist with her tiny fingers. Melisande was sitting up in the opposite cell to where Vinen and Ayham were, watching him with vacant eyes as if she saw right through him. "Mawla," Talia whined, more urgently.

"I don't know, my sweet child," he confessed, touching her cheek with his uncut hand, "I truly do not know." The energy it was taking to stand was too much for Bane to bear any longer. He gripped the bars within the center cell and sunk down into a sitting position, leaning so his back was too the cell where his companion lay, motionless, and so he could still watch Melisande in her near comatose state.

Talia whimpered and sat down next to him, eying his injuries with a fearful gaze. "You're not going to leave me too, Bane, are you?" she asked, an alien sense of maturity about her.

Bane touched his stab wound and cringed out of instinct, but it didn't hurt anymore, thankfully. "Get me some rags, child," he instructed, evading the question that he couldn't answer. She padded into the cell behind him and took some of the clean bandages that were resting under Vinen's cot, handing them back to Bane when she slipped past the older man.

"Here you go." She held out the cream strips of cloth. He took them gratefully and shoved the lump of fabric against the gaping hole in his back. When he had it positioned well, Bane pressed himself against the bars so the bandages were held in place to stanch the bleeding. Now that he was sitting, the blood loss was evident in the sluggish way his body responded. Talia noticed it in her own way, but the child said nothing more, instead sitting next to him as she'd done moments ago.

"Thank you, _nuur 'innaya_," he sighed, putting his unmarred left hand on her head and stroking her hair once. The effort it took to even lift a finger was staggering. In the distance he could hear Vinen and Ayham giving his friend mouth to mouth and pressing their hands to her chest to coax her to breathe, but the longer he listened, the farther they sounded.

"Try harder, _humaq_!" Ayham hissed from what sounded to be kilometers away. Vinen grumbled his own reply, but the space between Bane and the doctors had grown too far. Nothing made sense anymore. _I'm passing out, too,_ he realized bitterly. He willed his eyes to stay open, but soon enough they were too heavy for him to command and he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

The vivid hallucinations of lucid dreaming had Bane on the run. From the time he could first remember his dreams, he'd found himself running from the bat-like creature that had him on the retreat now. The beast was always surrounded by snapping jaws of peerless black, and its eyes glowed with indifferent white light against its midnight fur. It screeched at him relentlessly, battering him with its wings that felt like millions of pieces of shattered glass against his skin.

No matter how hard he fought against the demon, it always forced him backwards, towards the mouth of the Pit. Somehow he was near the prison every time, never far enough from his own Hell that he could escape it or the fanged animal before him. This instance was no different, it seemed. He was nearing the mouth of the Pit, fighting tooth and nail against the predatory enemy. His foot grazed the lip of the edge as he crouched low trying to dodge the large wings.

The hair on the back of Bane's neck rose on end as the familiar climax of defeat rose above him. He stared at the space between the demon's taloned feet and was shocked to see a second set of feet, human, that were never there the previous times he'd dreamed. A fountain of blood burst out from the front of the bat's chest and it yowled in pain. Another well of its life exploded out of its belly and Bane realized there was dagger protruding through the ribbons of the beasts flesh. As it fell to the bleached dirt, the first glimpse of Bane's savior came into view and he recoiled.

It was a woman. One that he felt he should know, but no matter the strength he dedicated to putting a name to her face, he couldn't manage to remember her. She beamed at him with her radiant heart-shaped face, unaffected by the splatters of gore that spider-webbed over her cheeks. The smile was genuine and stirred a curious emotion Bane couldn't identify. "Your friend needs your help, Bane," she said with a melancholy lilt. It was then he noticed her enchanting smile didn't reach her eyes. She wore the expression as a mask.

Bane didn't hesitate. "Where do I go?"

"Into the darkness," she replied, pulling her blade from the corpse of the bat and pointing it at the mouth of the Pit.

He should have known better than to think the answer would be simple. "I won't go in there for anyone."

The false smile on her face went stale. "I'm sorry, then. She won't make it without you." Before Bane could counter, the woman before him slid the blade between his ribs and pulled him close so he could hear her whisper. "I'm the light of your eyes, Bane. Now go be the light in another's." She cupped his cheek lovingly, then eased him into the clutches of the Pit below.

* * *

"You're weak," Bane said to me with an air of uncaring. "Why should I care if you die?" I tried to look away from him, but the rest of the world was black. Where was I? Behind Bane's head shone a light, one that was so bright I could barely make out his face other than the furious depths of his eyes. He towered over me a full three feet, his hazel gaze burning their forest fire tongues into my soul.

"I don't know," I admitted with a sense of defeat. How could I ask him to care? I was but a child of the streets. I had no more value than a sack of flour.

His face turned sour in the shadows. "Get out of my sight," he said with nonchalance, turning away from me.

From the darkness to my side, Ra's Al Ghul approached. "Don't let him escape you, child," he lulled, offering his hand to me the same way he had when I was young. I reached out to him, comforted by his very presence. When I looked at my hand as I put it in his I realized I _was_ still a child.

I blanched at the knowledge. "Sensei, why does he hate me? I don't want to be weak. I don't want to keep being abandoned." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I winced with the sound of my frailty. The memory of starvation and unquenchable thirst crept into my consciousness and suddenly Ra's wasn't the one holding my hand, it was Bane.

"Don't follow the Demon," he growled, tugging me away from the light, where Ra's now stood with his hand outstretched.

I shook viciously in an attempt to get him to let me go. "This is so confusing!" I wailed, "You said I'm weak. You don't care! Stop it!" I tore at my hand in his, desperately trying to return to the leader I remembered so fondly. Bane groaned in impatient disappointment, snatching me up by the waist and carrying me away. Ra's kept his hands held out to me, crooning in a voice that made me weep with loss. "I don't want to go, Master! Don't let him take me!"

Bane clamped his hand around my mouth and pulled me away, hiding the visage of Ra's from my eyes. I screamed angrily against his fingers, trying with all my minute might to keep my mentor in view, but Bane refused. "Do not look at the Demon's Head, damn it!" he whispered harshly, and I could see the outline of a great, winged beast blot out the light in the distance with its translucent membranes. Warmth started to engulf me as Bane carried me away from the creature, and I felt the rhythm of his footsteps dragging me into a calm. "No!" Bane snapped into my ear, jolting me back into sharp awareness, "Don't fall asleep. You won't wake up if you do."

I stared at him with confusion. "You said you wanted me to leave, Bane. I don't understand this."

"Neither do I," he admitted grudgingly, the coldness still as plain as before, "now shut your mouth."

Though he worded the command differently, I was intimately reminded of his first words to me. _Say nothing, do nothing, and you may yet live through this..._

Behind us a deafening roar echoed in the darkness, a bellow of infinite rage and ageless fury. _Don't think about it. Don't let fear rule you. Remember your Sensei's words._ I closed my eyes and willed my ears to close to the cry, focusing on the beating of my heart. Through the abyss of black I realized then, that I didn't have a heartbeat. _I'm dead?_


	24. Bane, Jinni, and Death

**Author's Note: If ever I ask for a review, now that this chapter is out, this is the time. Rate, review, follow and favorite. Please share with me all of your thoughts on where I'm taking this. Even I don't know for sure where I'm going. Haha!**

Bane faintly noticed the rush of waves lapping over him. Slow, rhythmic. A hypnotic swaying in the throes of the dark. "Bane," a soft voice whispered, calling out lovingly, "Bane..."

There was no one around in the void he floated in. No light, no depth, and no end. It was as if the voice echoed from every place in the pitch, and nowhere at the same time. "What?" he broke into the silence, the untempered irritation he felt dripping from his being. "What do you want?!" He hurt terribly in his chest, where a stab wound he couldn't remember getting was seeping blood. It was crushing him with its physical and mental weight, drawing every spare ounce of his breath from his lungs. He felt like a child again, hiding behind his mother when the nightmares became too much.

Through every effort he tried, Bane stifled the brimming tears he felt pricking at his eyes._ The Pit has claimed me and named me, but it will not break me_. The grievous hold of desperation made him weak. "Bane..." the airy voice whispered, drawing him towards it, though where the direction he floated still remained elusive. "Bane, please." The source of the voice appeared distressed, vying for his attention.

_Pleading for his assistance._

"You're weak," Bane screamed, so loud that his voice cracked. "Why should I care if you die?!"

_Die? How did he know the voice was dying_? Bane grit his teeth, confusion drawing him ever closer to empty rage. In the blackness he spotted a faint light, casting a shadow over the small frame of a child._ Talia_? he wondered, willing himself to move closer. As the tiny frame lessened its distance from Bane, he started to make out the familiar features of a person he could not remember. The child was so familiar, so tangible. When he was close enough to touch her, the ground became a thing he could touch, and so he stood before her, the raw emotions of his mind emanating from him like a visible aura.

"I don't know," the youngling murmured, unshed tears gleaming in her eyes.

_She was the one who called out to him in the darkness!? This ragged, worn, dirty urchin of a child was the voice that had pulled on his heartstrings?!_ The molten fire of anger boiled over inside him, but his tone was even and unattached. "Get out of my sight." He turned away from the child in an attempt to remain calm. His chest heaved with the effort. _Why am I so drawn to this wretch!?_

Behind him a wraith started to whisper, its words lost to the soundlessness of the void. He kept his resolve strong, unwilling to let the alien presence goad him into turning around. The small child wasn't so smart and replied to the silhouette in a clear but saddened lilt, "Sensei, why does he hate me? I don't want to be weak. I don't want to keep being abandoned."

The rasp of the creature's voice jogged a memory the second time it spoke, and the familiar shiver of fear danced down his spine. _The bat did not die_! Without realizing it, Bane had turned around and stormed through the mist of a man and reached out to the child to save her. Enigmatic as she was, he could not let the shadow of his own nightmares terrorize someone else. "Don't follow the Demon," he mused, putting his hand over her small one to make an initial connection.

She recoiled, but Bane wouldn't let her go. If she escaped, she would be eaten by the bat and another life would be on his shoulders. "This is so confusing!" she cried out, slapping at his hands and trying to pry herself free. "You said I'm weak. You don't care! Stop it!" She was being completely unreasonable, and exactly the age she appeared. Bane huffed his impatience and grabbed her about the waist, lumbering away from the creature as its breath started to caress his neck. He wouldn't die protecting her, but he wouldn't live knowing his life was paid for by a child. The creature hissed its incoherent words at them and the child fought in his arms, reaching out for the leathery animal. "I don't want to go, Master! Don't let him take me!"

_What kind of delusion was she under?_ "Do not look at the Demon's Head, damn it!" he sneered, pushing her head into his chest to hide her eyes. The bat roared its angry howl and finally the child seemed to realize that it wasn't what she had initially thought. He kept on running, breathing heavy as the fatigue of exertion started to drag him down. Minutes passed by and the sound of the demon's wings grew faint. The girl started to list into sleep but Bane knew if she fell into it, she would die. Something in the back of his mind told him that. "No!" he snapped into her ear, scaring her awake, "Don't fall asleep. You won't wake up if you do."

She looked up at him, the clear shine of hurt in her eyes. "You said you wanted me to leave, Bane. I don't understand this." Her knuckles were white with the strength in which she clung to him.

_As if he mattered_. He scoffed inwardly at the prospect. _And the bat behind me is nothing but my imagination_.

"Neither do I," he admitted with a small shrug, "now shut your mouth."

As if on cue, the demon screeched again, its booming call shaking the indiscernible ground beneath Bane's feet. The child curled up tighter and went cold in his arms, as if the strength of the wailing took the small reserve of life left in her bones. Panic set in as the energy in his own body was starting to ebb. "I will not die, Demon! You cannot break me!" he yelled back, stronger than he felt. His reply silenced the beast, but it didn't help the cold body in his arms come back to life.

"Come back to me child," he hummed, suddenly stricken with a sense of grief he hadn't felt since he lost his mother. "Don't you make me say please, damn it. Don't do this-" His voice cracked with emotion, the tidal wave of its greatness stopping him in his tracks. Suddenly this child had a name, but it wasn't who his mind had originally thought of. "You're not Talia... You're-" he couldn't even finish the sentence as he stared down at the small body in his arms. His body was numb.

_I know who you are._

* * *

As the concrete weight of my own death hit me, I collapsed inwardly. _How could I be dead_? I didn't remember ever losing to someone, nor was I familiar with ever getting so wounded that this would happen. _So what was wrong? Why was this happening_? "I will not die, Demon! You cannot break me!" I heard Bane scream, but his voice was so far away. _Why was he so far away_? Bane held me closer than I'd ever thought possible, but he was shaking for some reason. I wanted to reach out to him so badly, but I couldn't move! "Come back to me child," I heard him say, barely louder than a caress of wind. He sounded devastated, but I couldn't understand why.

_Thump-thump._

I tried to rouse, but the sensation of hunger and thirst was crippling. I couldn't even raise my head to look at him. "Don't you make me say please, damn it. Don't do this-" His voice was strained and I cried out with all my soul trying to reach him. To sooth that childish ache that he wouldn't admit. My body was lead. Though I willed my fingers to clench, to even just twitch, I remained in the fetal position against his chest. He heaved a deep breath and I felt us stop moving. Something happened. _What happened_? "You're not Talia... You're-" He stopped talking. _I'm what? Of course I wasn't Talia. What is he thinking_?

_Thump-thump._

He touched one shaking hand to my cheek, his heat searing my flesh. _He was so hot! Why was he so hot_? His skin burned my own, yet I couldn't bring myself to hate the pain. He was touching me in a way I had never experienced.

_As if I mattered_. The mere thought of that made me snort in my mind. _Bane would never care for you like this_. So then why was he so distraught over my death? Come to think of it, if I was dead, do I just stay in my body until it turns to ash, forced to experience the agony of slow decomposition? That was not something I looked forward to.

_Thump-thump, thump-thump._

What the hell was that noise!?

And then, like the first night I tasted the true flavor of life when Ra's had claimed me as his own child, I realized that the sound was my own heart defiantly trying to pierce through the veil of Death. The thrum of it was so faint that I had missed it when I first listened. I was so preoccupied with shutting out the roar and hearing the desperation in Bane's voice, that I couldn't recognize the sound of my own body clinging to life. I gathered up my entire consciousness and focused on the slow, almost painful beat.

_Thump-thump, thump-thump._

_Thump-thump._

A wet sense of heat started from the center of my chest and spread slowly through my veins. My skin blazed with tingling sensations and the tips of my fingers and toes felt like they were dipped in ice. I sent a single thought to my left hand and to my delight it moved! I sent my thoughts outward in a system of metaphysical roots and everything was responding, though sluggishly, as if dipped in molasses. The last thing to do was to face whatever lay beyond my own eyelids. As I opened my eyes I came face to face with Bane watching me, an expression of pure awe on his face. "You were..." he stopped, the words catching in his throat. He crushed me against him and breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

_And then he whispered my name._

* * *

Bane woke up to the frantic undertones of Vinen swirling around him. Talia was knelt at his waist, watching him with her large almond eyes. He tried to sit up, to see what had become of his friend, but found that his stab wound protested vehemently enough to set his spine convulsing. He groaned and arched in pain, blinded by its intensity. Vinen hissed and pushed him onto his belly, where the doctor could lean Bane into the floor to straighten his back and keep his gouge from opening. "Stupid boy," Vinen scolded in his wispy voice, "do not move again."

Through the spasms of his back, Bane grit his teeth and replied, "Duly noted." He couldn't remember the last time he had an attack like this happen. He wore his brace more time on than off, and the pain had subsided over the past four years, but now he would have to go through it again. It never boded well when his body recoiled like this. After several attempts at uncoiling his tongue, which had somehow lodged itself to his throat, Bane managed to ask, "How is she, Vinen?"

The medicine man looked up from where he was applying pressure to Bane's back and shook his head solemnly. "She lives," he admitted, "but not without consequences." Bane could hear the heaviness in the doctor's words, but despite the implications he felt relief wash through him. He was too tired to be upset at the emotion, but he stored away the memory for later scrutiny. "Bane," Vinen called, a sense of impending terror in his tone. The muscles in his back began to relax, but that didn't alleviate the sense of dread growing in his stomach.

"What?" Bane did not like the way the older man was weighing out his words.

Vinen pulled his hands away from the wound on Bane's back and approached his head so he could stare into his eyes. "She is not going to come out of this unscathed, child," he admitted sadly, "she has sustained far too many injuries to be the same as she was hours ago. She..." He trailed off, grimacing at whatever thoughts preoccupied him.

Bane could not stand the unknown. "Out with it, old man!" he hissed, cringing when his back responded with a jolt of pain.

"She has been mumbling in her sleep of demons and men, and of things Ayham and I do not understand. She spoke of you many times as well, but she seemed strained when she did."

"Don't dance around the truth, Vi," Ayham cut in, the sound of his raggedy slippers shuffling behind Bane. "When she first came back from death, she was so deep in a stupor that we could not break her. Your _friend_," the word was thick with underlying meaning, "was begging of the air for you." He scurried around into Bane's field of vision and wore an expression of deep-seated distress. Even with Ayham wanting his compatriot to say what he meant, Bane could plainly see that there was something else neither of them were too keen on explaining.

Prone on the floor, Bane was still imposing with his deep voice and piercing gaze. "What are you not telling me?"

The two doctors glanced at each other nervously. Vinen was the one to speak. "When both of you were unconscious," he started, "you were carrying on a conversation. I have seen many strange things in my time, but-"

"-Allah above, child, you were speaking to each other in the void! Our full store of knowledge couldn't breathe life into her lungs, but you called out to her and she came back!" Ayham interjected, his eyes wide.

"Some... Thing, was hanging over her before you spoke," Vinen continued, his face grim. "It was not corporeal. It looked like her _Qarin_ was trying to keep her in death. The Guardian of her soul, if you will. It is-"

Bane had heard enough. He may not be able to sit up, but his voice was enough to trample any objections as he made his own interruption to the conversation. "A _Jinni_ that all people have and it can be good, or evil. I remember reading your _Qur'an_, old man. I don't believe in that nonsense. God-fearing is for the weak minded."

"You did not see it, boy," Ayham persisted, shaking a finger at Bane. "It looked like a bat unlike any I had ever seen before. A great and terrible beast made of the fabric of midnight, with eyes that burned with the ancient and empty white of pure animosity."

Both of the doctors broke out into prayer then, fearing for their lives regardless of Bane's opinion of religion. "I seek refuge in Allah from Satan the outcast. - Allah! There is none worthy of worship but He, the Ever Living, the One Who sustains and protects all that exists. Neither slumber nor sleep overtakes Him. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. Who is he that can intercede with Him except with His Permission? He knows what happens to them in this world, and what will happen to them in the Hereafter. And they will never encompass anything of His Knowledge except that which He wills. His Throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and He feels no fatigue in guarding and preserving them. And He is the Most High, the Most Great."

"If you're quite done," Bane growled, "I'd appreciate an update on her physical well being now, without all the magic, demon jargon." The knowledge that his nightmare had taken form sent a chill down his already aching spine.


	25. Facets of Another's Life

**Author's Note: Short chapter. Next one will be longer, as we'll see whether or not she wakes up from her death sleep. What will become of everyone else while she is out. Rate, review, follow and favorite.**

Vinen chewed on the inside of his cheek. He did not appear comfortable with the prognosis. His pupil glowered a sideways glance towards him before taking the lead. "She may be bleeding internally," Ayham sighed, drawing himself up protectively, "other than that, we set her broken arm. It looked like it was a clean break, and we can only hope it fuses properly. Her previous wounds from the riot are healing, but the one on her side was torn open today, and we had to stitch it closed again. She has a handful of bruised ribs, two broken fingers on her right hand, and a severe concussion." Bane saw him rubbing his neck from the corner of his eye. _He only ever does that when he is hopeless,_ he remembered sourly. _So she won't make it, even after all of this._

"We will be lucky if she wakes up from this, Bane," Vinen said, his eyes full of woe.

Ayham put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "She will make it. _Humaq_ she is, she will come through." They both looked at eachother, then down to Bane. "She will make it."

Vinen's eyes held no hope. The old man had gotten attached to her just like they'd all gotten attached to Talia. It wouldn't be something any of them could move on from if she passed away, or didn't wake up in due time. Vinen would more than likely fall back into his addiction, which he'd been working the past two years against, with help from her. She was resilient and ever optimistic despite her condemnation here, which held all of them together. Bane admired her ignorant ways, ways that Talia had begun to emulate. Now that he'd seen her with Talia, it was clear that she had seen them sometime in the past while being here. Late at night would have been her only chance before two weeks ago. He never let her out of the cage unless it was to fight. His instincts and mistrust of people had never let him relax when it came to keeping her or Talia protected.

"How long was I out?" Bane finally managed to ask. He had been quiet far longer than he thought, and the doctors were looking at him with pity. He hated pity.

Vinen looked out to the center of the Pit, where the light was just starting to fade. "About eight hours. We had to divide our time between the two of you, and still keep Talia from wailing. She thought both of you had died there, for a moment."

"That _amra'a_ was of no use, either," Ayham growled, gesturing behind him, where Bane noticed that Melisande was still in the same position as before he passed out. She stared into the distance, vacant and withdrawn. "She wouldn't even hold Talia while we worked."

"Speaking of her," Bane interjected, derailing the conversation, "where is she?" He could not see the small child from his limited view from the floor of the center cell.

Ayham looked behind Bane, to the cell where his companion was laying motionless in her binds of sleep. "She is sleeping under your friend's bed, thinking the company will help her wake."

"Uh, yo," a gruff voice cut in. Both doctors looked up and out to the Pit, staring at the source while Bane was forced to lay prone. "Not to be rude or nothin', man, but your friend dropped this early this morning. He ran into me while trying to run somewhere." Vinen leaned forward and grabbed whatever it was that the man had spoke of, and then set it down in his lap. "I saw what happened to him, Bane. I'm sorry." The shuffle of feet carried the man away, and both of the doctors turned back to Bane.

It occurred to him then, that the voice belonged to the man who stopped him on his way here. _He called me "brah",_ Bane thought absently. He was more interested in what item it was that his cellmate had carelessly dropped while running for the bathroom. "What did he give you?" Bane asked, lifting his head.

Vinen held out a flat piece of leather no bigger than two sheets of paper put together. It had a hole near the corner of one side, and a fashioning of three straps and buckles. "I will show you what I think it is," he said, pushing himself from the floor and stepping around to Bane's right side. "Hold up your arm." Bane turned his head towards the older doctor and obliged his request, raising his right hand off the stone floor. Vinen unwrapped the splint and bandaged holding Bane's wrist straight and fit the hole around his thumb. He laid the leather around his wrist, looping the straps through the buckles and pulling it taut. The immediate relief on his hand was surprising.

"She must have had this in her chest garment because neither of us saw it while treating her before," he said to Bane, easing his wrist back down against the ground. "Where she got the leather and the skill to fashion this is curious, indeed." Bane grunted his agreement, then started to push himself up.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, _budalla_?" Ayham scolded, putting his hand on Bane's shoulder to stop him.

"I'm moving to the bed in with her and Talia, if you don't mind," he growled back, shrugging the hand away and rising to his feet. Every motion caused his body to balk in protest. Nothing wanted to work in the way he intended it to. Finally on his feet, Bane leaned heavily on the bars of the cells and staggered to the cot across from where Talia and his cellmate lay. His body had to weigh three times its normal number with how slow he was. He could only hope another riot or fight would not call him up onto his feet, because Bane was more tired now than he had been in a long time. "Get me my back brace," he grunted to the doctors, leaning his head back on the bars as he sat on the bed.

One of them disappeared from the cells to fetch the belt. The other doctor, who Bane guessed was Vinen, stayed outside of the cell, closer to Melisande. Bane preferred it that way. It gave him the room to think. In front of him lay a woman who was a riddle, wrapped up in mystery, inside of an enigma, all boxed up inside an oxymoronic paradox. She fought beside him, fought to pay him back for his help, fought to prove herself, and yet still managed to defy him whenever it suited her. She fought him for her freedom, fought him for respect and friendship, denied him when she felt it prudent, and drove him more mad than any other person he could imagine.

Yet, he would not have anyone else but her at his back. He trusted no one else with that privilege. She earned that right only a year ago, when a group had challenged them to his own preferred manner of fighting. _Tohaadii_, but with more lenient rules. He had asked her to keep out of it, for her own good and for his, but when they delved into the dark waters of the lowest ring of the Pit, he quickly found that they weren't going to play fair, even by their own rules. She kept one of the assailants from planting a shiv into his ribs while he was pinned, and then succeeded in freeing him and ending the fight. He had never seen her fight so hard before.

His thoughts interrupted, Bane perked his ears up to the noise of Vinen shuffling through his desk beside him. "What are you doing, old man?" he asked, lifting his head from the bars and turning towards the doctor.

Vinen bristled, glancing over at Bane. "Nothing." He turned back to his frantic search.

Bane sighed. He knew exactly what the medicine man was doing. Somewhere in the desk was his last stash of the opium resin he'd kept secret from his friend. Now that she was laying near death in bed, he could not handle keeping himself together. He did not pity the doctor, but Bane did have some semblance of understanding. He himself didn't know how to keep himself calm from the prospect of the loss that may yet come.

"I got it," Ayham announced as he shuffled back into the cells. He brandished the belt and then tossed it to Bane, who caught it in his unbroken left hand.

"Thank you, Ayham." Bane leaned forward and put the belt on, ignoring the stab wound which was vexed at the thick item placed over it. He pulled the support brace tight around him and then turned to finally lie down. Sleep overtook him quicker than anticipated, wrapping him in empty quiet.


	26. Awake

**Author's Note: Interesting chapter is interesting. I'm almost to my review goal. This chapter is part of the reward and thank you for all the kind words. Look forward to the next couple of chapters. I have two big surprises in store. Rate, review, follow and favorite! As always, it's a pleasure to write for you, and for me.**

Just over a month passed by with no improvement on her condition. She remained breathing on her own, but for all their efforts she still was unresponsive. Bane grew more and more restless with each day he healed, watching her wither in the bed and seeing Talia die a little more inside. Despite his wounds, Bane left the doctor's cell after a week, spending all his time in his own room, where the plants would keep him company.

Early on in the few days he was on his own, Bane found that Lazaro was rumored to have survived, much to his hatred. Trogg was not so lucky. They sent him up in funeral linens the night of his passing. A new cook was condemned to the Pit a day later, and the Rope Master was seen to be making good company of the thin chef. Bane would have to deal with the Spaniard when his wounds healed and his friend roused from her stubborn death-sleep.

Through all the pain of his back and his arm, he set himself to the grindstone and started back on his exercises. He leaned heavily on his left arm for the first two weeks, until his right wrist could support his weightl. The brace that she had fashioned for him was doing wonders for his hand, which confounded Bane to a furious degree. _How did she know I needed this before a time when I would need it?_ he kept asking himself, spinning his thoughts in circles. _How did she size it to fit my hand when she never took any measurements?_ The ideas he came up with made about as much sense as the questions he started with.

When all of his thinking could be done, he meditated and cleared out his beehive of a mind. Every single day he meditated, trying with all his intensity to establish that connection he'd made when they both were in the void of Death. To his dismay each time, the connection was impossible. No matter the depth in which he dove in an attempt to touch her mind, he found himself simply drowning in his own thoughts. When he'd given up on that route, Bane pushed her out of his mind.

As he had anticipated since the first incident, throughout the past month his back spasmed a handful of times, but it was nowhere near as frequent as he'd originally thought. _At least that was a saving grace_. With little more than his own healing and education to tend to, Bane grew restless with the passing weeks. It didn't help that the man who had delivered the wrist brace was checking in on him almost daily, raking on the thin wire that was his nerves. After three weeks of his presence wearing on Bane, he snapped. "What do you want from me? What is the point in you coming here?!" he'd snarled, causing the man to frown.

"Ay', listen, brah," he'd ground out, furrowing his brow at Bane, "I don't got nothin' to do here, and if you haven't noticed, friends are hard to come by, yeah? Your friend was spoken well of, man. I don't like this place anymore than you do, but he was a good guy, and I don't wanna see you's go south because he's still down for the count." He had made a hand gesture then, one that touched his forehead, chest, and then each shoulder.

Bane recognized it as a Catholic hand sign of faith and immediately relaxed. He meant well, even if he was an annoying little man. "I don't need your help," he'd shrugged, "but thank you. Just leave me be."

The man had rolled his shoulders in a similar manner, and left, only to return two days later to talk to him again. "Brah, The doctors are saying your friend is getting worse. They want to talk to you. It doesn't look good, man." Then he disappeared.

A veil over his presence, Bane went heavy footed down to Vinen and Ayham, dreading the news. _They'll have me smother her, since they're too religious. Wash their hands of murder and put it on me._ Bane shook his head as he descended the steps, bypassing a lithely framed man who eyed him worriedly. _Is he new, too?_ Bane wondered briefly, before being bombarded by Ayham, who pushed past a man twice his size.

"Come, come! There is no time," Ayham rushed out, snatching Bane by the arm and shoving him towards the cells. Melisande was slowly shuffling about the backmost cage, winding herself down to sit with Talia, who was drawing intricate flowers into the dust on the floor. It was good to see the mother back on her feet, but Bane still could see it would still be a long way off for her to turn back into her old self. Talia looked up at him from her seat in the dirt and smiled sadly, waving with her sodden hands. Bane's lips twitched upwards, returning the wave. "No time for the living, _budalla_! Move," Ayham pressed more urgently.

"What is _so_ urgent that you're wearing my patience thin, old man?" Bane said darkly. He shrugged Ayham's hands off him, stepping past the threshold to see his friend more pale and withered than he thought was even possible. Her breathing was slow and labored, drowned in the heavy sound of liquid in her lungs. Where her vibrant and expressive eyes used to be now lay two sunken sockets, caved in to the point where she looked skeletal. The worst of it though, was her ribs, which were individually clear against her paper-thin skin. "_What the hell have you been doing to her_?" He whirled on the smaller doctor, eyes alight with rage.

"We have done all we can," Vinen cut in, pushing past Bane's swelling presence. The older medicine man moved as swift as ever, bypassing all semblance of conflict to deal with the patient. "She took a turn for the worse when you left, Bane. It is your own doing. Talk to her. If she doesn't come back in the next two weeks, we're going to send her up."

The finality of that statement killed all of the anger in his chest. "How is my talking to her going to help?"

* * *

"_I told you, you didn't have my permission to die..._"

_Who is that voice? _"Go away. I just want to sleep."

"_You're not allowed to leave._"

"I don't want to leave, I just want to sleep..."

"_You can't abandon Talia here. Not now._"

_Who is that talking? Who is Talia? Who..._

Who am I?

"How do you know me?"

"_You won't get me to admit anything. You just can't escape now. Not now._"

"_We haven't made the climb together, yet._"

What climb? _Who is this?! _"What do you want from me?!"

"_Wake up. It's Bane. You only have a few more days..."_

_A few more days for what?_ I just want to sleep. Is that so much to ask? "Go away."

"_Okay. I'm done being nice. Get up, or I'll personally smother you._"

"I'd like to see you try, Bane." _What is that idiot thinking?_

"_You have two nights left, woman. Get out of your stubborn sleep and help Talia. Melisande is of no use. She just wanders in circles, talking to herself. Talia can't keep up her cheerfulness alone. Get out of that bed and help Talia..."_

But, I don't want to get up. _I'm so tired_.

"_Help... Me. I need to repay you for fighting at my back. So come back and call it even, why don't you?"_

"Ugh. Fine." _I don't want to do this, damn it._

"_Tonight is it, woman. Get up. It's just like you to make me wait until the last minute. Don't fail me. You don't have my leave to die just yet. You still have to tell me about what pizza is, and how you meditate and what Ra's Al Ghul taught you. Don't die when I still have so much to learn. Teach me, damn it. Don't do this."_

_Why is he so desperate? I'm just... _WHO am I?

"_You've left me no choice. Damn you for it. They're going to wrap you in a few hours, when light breaks."_

_What is this warmth? Where is it coming from? It's hot. Too hot. Too hot._

_Too hot!_

_Get it off!_

* * *

Through the sick film of the sensation of sleeping far too long, I inhale deep and immediately regret it. Every part of me is stiff and groans in protest to my wanting to move. _My lips are so dry_, I think to myself. _They're warmer than they should be. Why?_ I open my eyes and shock jolts my groggy system into hyperdrive. Bane is pressed against my lips, eyes closed and strained. His ragged brown hair tickles my forehead as I look at him, bedraggled and desperate as he kisses me.

For all the thoughts running through my head, none so much made any sense of this. _How long was I sleeping?_ I thought sarcastically. As he pushed himself harder against me, dire want of something unknown in his motions, all of my internal monologue went mute. The urge to touch him was stupidly strong. I willed my arms to rise, and they did, though with slower movements than I needed at the moment. As I put both of my hands to his face, he tensed in the dark. The world spun hastily as he relaxed again and let himself linger just a little longer against my lips.

Then he pulled away and collapsed onto his hands and knees next to where I lay. "You had to wait until the very last second," he breathed, his voice choked and filled with an array of emotions I couldn't completely discern.

I made to reply, but my throat was so dry. Instead I coughed for a good five minutes, spitting up globs of blood and whatever else had made its way into my lungs. Bane bolted upright the moment I began coughing, pressing his hand firmly to my back as I leaned over the edge of the cot. "Get all of it out," he urged.

When all of the ache in my chest had gone and I managed a drink from a pitcher he offered, I looked at him in the dark. "What happened?" I asked, feeling a little dumb for the question. Obviously something large had to have gone on. I was malnourished in what seemed to be the doctor's bed, and Bane did the unthinkable just moments ago.

Bane spent the next few hours explaining what I had forgotten until now. The riot, my incapacitation and death that turned out to be false. He explained that while I was down the first time, he had gone to Trogg, who I vaguely remembered to be the prison cook, to get the evening's rations for everyone. Trogg had swindled him into bringing me to see him, which Bane expressed his suppressed regret for ever agreeing to. Then the events that led up to me rousing from death and making good on Trogg's request.

Bane took responsibility for Lazaro attacking the second time, and he sideways thanked me for the help in winning over both the chef and the ropemaster. He vehemently berated me for stopping him from killing the Spaniard, which I subjected myself to willingly. Honestly, I didn't even know why I stopped myself and Bane from killing him. Lazaro sounded like he would not be sorely missed. Then Bane started in on the events since my falling into what Vinen and Ayham were only able to guess as a coma.

A man had tried to stop Bane on his way to the two older doctors. A man who Bane had since come to know as somewhat of a friend, despite his annoying tendencies. When I asked for a name, Bane shrugged. "He hasn't told me, and I haven't asked." He went on to tell me about what Vinen and Ayham experienced while Bane and I were unconscious. I remembered vividly what happened in my dream, and Bane's corroboration with what the old men saw made me shiver.

"Do you believe them?" I had to know.

For a long moment Bane neglected to reply. Something in the silence said more than had he explained it to me out loud. He experienced something of his own and was just not wanting to say so. "I believe in what I see," he finally replied. "Now, do you want me to finish explaining, or are you going to interrupt again?" I declined to comment and he took that as his leave to move on. From there, he told me about his own recovery and how up until two weeks ago, he'd been on his own, building himself back up. At the time, his nameless friend came to tell Bane about my own deteriorating health.

Both Vinen and Ayham had scolded Bane down to his bones for leaving while I was unconscious. It was apparent from Bane's thick voice that he was not amused with being blamed for my well being, but he made no actual complaint. "So, I have sat here the past fortnight talking to you without end. I read through the Qur'an twice, and was starting in on the Bible when Vinen told me to give up. I wasn't going about it right, according to the old man. When I threatened to break his hands, he let me be. I doubt you remember any of what I said, but..." He didn't finish his thought.

Suddenly the area where Bane was sitting grew hot. Was he embarrassed? "Thank you for caring," I mumbled in an effort to sooth his discomfort.

"I _don't_ care," he snapped in a whisper. "If I had not done what those two old fools asked, they would have never let me be." The quickness in his reply stung deep, but I knew it was because he didn't know how to handle kindness. He didn't know how to work through the emotions, and I was only a couple pages ahead of him in that respect. My lips still burned with the memory of his on mine.

But, I couldn't let that cloud my judgement. "Okay. So, when do we get started on training again?" The change of topic would most likely help him ease back down from his defense.

"We'll start today, after breakfast," he answered. "I won't go easy on you. If you're not on your feet and defending yourself by tonight, you're on your own."


	27. Barsad

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait on the new chapter. I haven't felt the itch to write for this, and if I did, nothing worthwhile came of it. This one is a slow one, but don't worry... Just a little more and that surprise will be here! Rate, review, follow and favorite! Reviews are my food!**

It was just as bad as I'd anticipated. The atrophy to my muscles made standing alone a chore I was almost incapable of doing. Bane helped me up to our cell, where there would be little to no interference from the doctors and Talia, and before we began I asked to have some time in the washroom to clean. He nodded and pulled out the clean linens I had worn before our tussle with the rope master and the cook. "Don't ruin these," he warned, a grim smile tugging at the sides of his lips.

"No promises," I replied, disappearing behind the shift that kept the washroom separate from our cell. I waited until I heard Bane recline in his cot to start filling the wash basin. Shedding all of the clothing and bandages, I watched the large bowl fill. While it did, I took a good look at myself. My ribs were aching and a big section under my left breast was still black with bruising. It hurt if I breathed in too deep. _Still broken or bruised badly,_ I ascertained. Where Sensei had snapped my arm, the bone had obviously come apart again and been set, and it no longer hurt to move, but I would have to pay special attention so it wouldn't break again. No amount of muscle growth will fix the handicap of that.

My fingers were all accounted for as I flexed them in front of my eyes. The ring and pinkie of my right hand felt stiff, but then again, everything felt stiff right now. Underneath the raging hunger, everything else felt fine. I counted my digits, breathed deep and slow, and stretched as the water brimmed, and though the ache from staying still was a pain in my ass, everything else didn't feel any different. _You won't be so lucky next time, so don't let it happen again,_ my instincts growled. The thing had a point. I would not escape as easily from death if I fought so reckless another time.

Turning the rusty faucet off I plunged my head straight into the water, holding my breath while I ran my fingers through the dirty ropes of my crusted hair. The basin took an immediate shade of brown and gray that made me wrinkle my nose. It smelled awful. Did I really smell like that? I hoped not. "Do you need a wash rag?" came Bane's voice from outside, jarring me from my own repulsion.

"If you got one, I'll use it," I said. A few seconds later a cream rag slid under the shift and down to where I sat. "Thanks."

* * *

"Wash up quick. You stink," he barked back, leaning back down into the folds of his bed. The huff and grunts that came from her as she tried to form a rebuttal were amusing.

"_You_ stink!" she hissed, and then all was quiet. The occasional slosh of water was all that interrupted the dull roar of the prison, and Bane found himself dozing before too long. His dreams came quick, though the noises of the outside world still pierced the veil. As he made to fight off the bat, which had not stopped plaguing him since the events a month ago, a sweet lilting voice hummed about him. "_Dime qué haría de mis días, quien soñaría si no estas. Cómo podría respirar el aire,lejos de ti. Cuando no estas aquí…_" With the demon struggling against Bane's grip on his jaws, Bane could just make out that it was someone familiar who sang into his dreams. Who though? He could not fight the Bat and his own mind at the same time to find out.

"_Solo por ti,caminaría- en la infinidad. Afrontaría- contigo la eternidad. Solo por tí…_" The bat snarled and tried to take off Bane's fingers, but he was just quick enough to pull away. Already the beast had him near the mouth of the pit, driving him back and into the depths of the black abyss. The tongues of the deep pitch reached out for him, but Bane would not go into the darkness. Not without a fight. As his heavy frame hunkered down against the Bat and its razor wings Bane heard the voice again, lamenting and promising in foreign words. "_Dime lo que siente tu alma, dime por qué vive en mi. No se pero voy muriendo lento- Solo sin tí. Triste me quedo así…_

"_Solo por tí,caminaría- en la infinidad. Afrontaría- contigo la eternidad. Solo por tí._" The demon sneered in rage as the song of Bane's dreams lilted towards a climax. Somehow, as Bane pressed himself into the fur of the creature, his efforts proved worthy. The bat screeched in dismay as it was forced to take a step back. Before he could gain any more ground on the vermin of his nightmares, a jolt of icy cold spots ran down his spine. Awareness was instantaneous and bright as he opened his eyes and ears. He was laying on his side staring at his friend who hadn't noticed his rousing from the nap.

She had her eyes closed and back towards the prison as she ran her hands through her hair to untangle it. Bane saw her start to open her eyes and for some reason, he felt he was intruding on something private, so he shut his own, though not without cracking them to watch anyway. "Te daré mil poesías, las escribiré para tí. Cantaré mis melodías, con la música de tu alma… Solo por tí,caminaría- en la infinidad. Afrontaría, contigo la eternidad…" she hymned, looking up at the ceiling, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. _What is with this woman?_ Bane asked himself this question more often than not, but each time never yielded anything new.

She was just as confusing and aggravating as the first night he met her. He watched her take a shaky breath and sigh her last. "Solo por ti, caminaría- en la infinidad. Afrontaría, amar por la eternidad… Yo solo, solo por tí…" She glanced over to him but did not notice that he was watching her through hooded lids, and she moved to where he lay and sat on the edge of the cot, staring down at him. _She's going to kill you! Move!_ His primal consciousness bellowed its mistrust, but Bane made no effort to get up. He had to know what had possessed his friend to move into his space while he slept.

* * *

I had taken longer than I intended in the wash room. There was so much filth on my skin and in my hair that I had to fill the basin three times before I was satisfied with the state of my body. Now, as I looked down at Bane while he slept, I could see the faint presence of peace on his face. He was never so kind looking while awake. I ran a shaky hand through his hair and sighed, reflecting. "I've never had a friend before," I admitted, though I knew he could not hear me. "You're my first one." To spare him any shame or anger, I moved away before he woke up. I sat back on my own bed and pulled my hood up to keep the cool wetness of my hair in for as long as possible.

It was another half an hour before Bane got up from his nap and pestered me to fight. He rose slowly, like a bear from hibernation. "On your feet," he grunted, offering his hand to me.

I took it without fear. "You got it, boss. So, what are we-" My insides reeled as a fist buried into my middle. _Should have expected that,_ my inner monologue chastised bitterly. Bane pulled his hand away and made to strike again, but I was faster this time. Just as his hand started to travel forward, I placed my own hands in the way and deflected the blow away, his knuckles barely managing to graze the side of my ribs. It caused the bruised patch to sear with a blossom of pain, but it was bearable, all things considered. The dark smile that curved Bane's mouth was foreboding as he pulled out of my reach and shoved me aside.

It continued like this for the better part of the day; sidestepping and dodging with little room to breathe. Bane had me panting and wheezing in the late afternoon when he called a halt to our sparring. "Enough. You will be fine." He gestured for me to sit down and I happily complied. "You really were trained by Melisande's husband, weren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"Ra's Al Ghul?" I inquired back, rhetorically. "Yes. He was already an adult by the time I met him. He raised me, as I said. I learned all I know from him and my brothers and sisters." _None of them acted like they were your siblings,_ my mind growled sullenly. The ache of missing the dojo was still strong even now, going on three years being down in this prison. I had long lost the hope that this was just another test, and I had faced the reality of that, but it didn't hurt any less that I had been abandoned by my family. _It's for a good reason, _I had to keep telling myself. _If it wasn't, then you deserve the reality of this hell, anyway._

"It shows," Bane conceded, easing into his own bed. "I didn't expect you to be so quick after… After earlier."

"Do I sense disappointment?" I barbed playfully. "I know you wanted to be rid of me, but damn…"

The dark look on Bane's face said more than enough. We sat in silence for a couple hours after that, simply looking out towards the prison, watching and enjoying each other's company in our own kind of comfortable quiet. "I'm going to go get my food for the day," I said aloud, drawing Bane's attention to where I sat. "I'm so hungry I could eat your ration and mine and still want more."

Bane drew his brows together and I watched his muscles tense and work. "I'll come with."

"No." My answer was immediate and concise. "No," I said again for emphasis. "I can handle myself. I know that a fight would do me ill, but I need food, and I need to show our _friends_ that I'm well and can handle myself."

Bane ground his jaw tight, clearly wanting to deny me and keep me here against my will. In the end, he sighed. "I'm not going to save you this time."

I hissed at him angrily. "I didn't need you to save me last time, and I didn't ask you to either. Don't presume." I left without another word, slamming the gate shut and locking it. I spared Bane no glances as I descended, full irritation gnawing on my insides. _Who does he think he is, to get off saying something like that to me?_ I was fuming, and I had to calm down quick. Lazaro still kept watch over the chef's door and I would be best equipped to handle him with all my senses at my command. "Calm as still water, strong as the undertow," I mumbled over and over until I was at the foot of the ropemaster's alcove.

"You look familiar," the Spaniard hummed, squinting down at me with his almond eyes. "Oh, it's… It's _you._ I thought Trogg killed you. Bane should have." I narrowed my eyes at him, but he seemed unaffected. He crouched down to look closer at me. "Were _you_ the one who was singing earlier? _Solo por ti._ Not bad, though you may want to keep your womanly lips shut if you don't want anyone else to find out about that second pair between your legs."

"Gruff as ever, Lazaro," I drawled lazily, feigning nonchalance. "I'm not here to fight. I just want some food. Can I go in, or would you like to fetch it for me like a good dog?"

The ropemaster frowned. "Go in, but don't make any funny movements. I owe you no debt for your sparing my life." He stood up and crossed his arms, and only then did I notice his ear was gone. A splintered webbing of scars etched the side of his face where the appendage used to be, half hidden by a curtain of ebony hair he'd removed from his long braid.

"Thank you, _Don Lazaro_," I amended, grateful for the lack of a fight. The ropemaster quirked a brow and glanced down at me, but made no more motion as I stepped into the familiar hall of stone and dirt. The clang and pop of metal and wood echoed loud as I passed the threshold of the kitchen. The blood from the fight still stained the floor and walls, but the new cook seemed unfazed. As I moved closer, I got a good look at him. Willowy framed and scruffy, the cook was no more than a boy! He had to have been no more than 13.

The young man was light footed about the cauldron of gruel as he added more of one thing and stirred in another. "Can I help you?" he asked without looking up, rummaging through the bags of oats, rice, and hardtack.

It took me a full minute of forming my thoughts to finally ask the right question. "I just want my rations for the day," I said, scratching my neck reflexively.

"And you are?" he questioned, still digging through the stores of grains.

I said my name and then the name I went by for everyone else in the prison, and the small boy stopped. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

The cook stood and brandished a knife (which I noted with ambivalence as the one that I killed Trogg with) in his unsteady hands. "Lazaro told me about you," he mused, voice heavy with apprehension.

"What are you going to do with that blade, boy?" I inquired back, a forewarning in my tone. I took one step back and pivoted my body into a defensive stance.

"Lazaro said if I killed you, I get to leave here." The pleading in the young man's eyes tugged on some deep part of me. I growled internally at the reaction and shoved it down. "I don't want to be here," he whined, and then he lunged. His form was honed, but his hands were clumsy. I parried hastily, the exhaustion and muscle atrophy driving me to finish this quickly, before either of us were hurt. As the blade and his hand passed by me, I gripped the thrust hand by the wrist and squeezed, wrenching the butcher knife from his hand and hoisting the limb high behind his back. He grunted but surprisingly made no plea to escape. "Just make it quick…"

"Make what quick?" I bit back at him, pushing him away from both me and the discarded weapon. "I'm not Lazaro or the rest of the prison."

As the boy stumbled away and righted himself, he turned to look at me with young wonder. "The ropemaster said you would kill me if I failed… That he would kill _me_ if I failed. Do you just want to wash your hands of me? Can you not be responsible for my death? _What is wrong_ with you people?!" He was clearly panicked.

"Lazaro won't do anything. I'll talk to him. I just want my food. Can you get it, or do I have to be afraid of you poisoning it, too?"

"No," the cook sighed, dragging his feet towards the pot, "I won't poison it. That'll get me killed quicker than you, anyway."

"Alright. Then get to it. I haven't eaten in a month. Might be more I think."

As the thin chef assembled my food, I got a decent view on what he was like. Obviously he'd been sent here against his will, and he resented every second of it. He had the energetic bounce of a child, but the poise and hunched shoulders of a wary adult. A sad sight in its entirety, if truth be told.

"Here," he sighed again, approaching me with slow steps, arms outstretched with the portion of food. "Take it and go."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Just… When I talk to Lazaro, who do I mention so he knows I'm talking about you?"

The boy missed that I could just mention "the cook" and answered, "My name is Barsad."


	28. Brothers Flames

**Author's Note: I'd completed this earlier today, but due to stupid work and their stupid training and stupid seminar, I couldn't upload it until now. We're getting dangerously close to that surprise I keep hinting at. It gets bigger each chapter I write. Rate, review, follow, and favorite! Thank you so much for the reviews last chapter. It keeps me going. I hope this long chapter is worth it!**

"Barsad, eh? Strong name. Let me deal with the ropemaster. You will never get out of here, but at least you'll live." I thank him once more for the rations and take my leave. The boy appeared distressed and mistrusting as I went, but he made no move to stop me or attack again. _Hopefully the boy truly did not poison the food,_ I thought warily as I padded down the hall. As I faced the exit I put my food down before approaching Lazaro. "_Don Lazaro_," I called out, slipping past the gate.

The Spaniard was standing up at his post, talking to a shorter man with a clean shaven head and a wispy, slightly overgrown goatee. "Yeah, man. The bet is still on, but I think you just lost another of your own," he pointed out with sympathetic undertones. He was looking past the ropemaster to where I was.

"I'm alive, if that's what you're disappointed about," I growled, drawing Lazaro's attention.

He looked at me with an inquisitive eye, no hint of anger in his expression. "Disappointed? No. Why would I be disappointed?"

"For reasons I think you're aware of. But, I'll let it slide this one time. Lazaro?"

Both the ropemaster and his bald companion watched me with curious expressions. "What?" he pressed.

"I forgive you. Don't kill the boy and I will forget today, and the events of last month." _I cannot bring Trogg back, but I can make peace with one of our enemies at least._ With food now in hand, I meandered by the ropemaster's post and felt both his and his companions eyes stare me down. _He will kill the boy._ Of that I had no doubt. That anyone would listen to me or feel fear in seeing my small, still broken frame was ludicrous.

From the top row of cells I heard my name called out. I almost thought I had hallucinated until I heard it a second time. Bane was screaming my name, drawing the attention of the entire prison. I looked back to where Lazaro stood guard and saw him, his friend, and Barsad all watching with their own expressions of mixed curiosity. I ran up the stairs and around to the next set, pulling dangerous glances from many of the prisoners. I had no time to properly intimidate them away, but I did note another obscenely young inmate as I ran up the last flight of stairs.

_Find him later, we have to find out what happened to cause Bane to yell like this._ Though I felt compelled to stop and ask the boy a list of questions, I ran ahead anyway, the better part of my judgement listening to my instincts. As I made my way up to the top row of cells I saw our cell come into view. A few brave souls had gathered near to watch what was happening. "_Yalla imshi! Imshi!_" I snapped in common Arabic and kicked at the nearest of the watchers, "Go! This is no place for you. Bane will kill you. _I_ will kill you."

Despite my minute stature, the rumors and hearsay about the scuffle in the riot and the later dance with Trogg and Lazaro had succeeded in inflaming my standing with the everyday rabble of the prison. I'd made myself well known and liked in the pits, but a real fight held much more weight. I shoved my way through the inmates as they dispersed and let myself into the cell. Bane was nowhere inside. _Please don't tell me he's got dysentery_, a humorlessly dark side of me groaned.

I heard my name again and cautiously moved towards the washroom. Sparing all semblance of respect for privacy, I peeked around the edge of the shift and found the source of Bane's crow. He was arched in a contortion of limbs that should be impossible for his size. Immediately I was relieved that it wasn't an internal illness, but a different sense of foreboding spread its tingly fingers down my neck. _Back spasms_. The muscles around his spine bunched and pulsed as his whole frame convulsed with pain. _Where is his brace?_ I noted inwardly, spotting that he'd neglected to wear it. Earlier while sparring I hadn't noticed its absence, and now I was cursing myself for it.

Luckily Bane hadn't seen me, so I didn't feel bad going back into the cell and rummaging through his boxes. I noted the raggedy teddy bear in the first container for conversation at a later time, and found the bunch of leather that I needed. Bane groaned a quiet bit of words and then I heard my name. His tone was urgent, but the volume died in his throat. _What could have set off his back like this?_ I wondered on this as I approached his side and knelt, pushing his tawny earth-colored hair away from his face. "I'm here, and I have your brace. I'm going to put it on you, and I can't promise it will be gentle."

Bane cracked his lids open and peered at me with self-loathing and hate. The blazing viridescent pools of his eyes screamed for me to leave, but his mind and his voice denied the truth in his gaze. He did not like that he called for me, and he hated my presence for it. But, he could take that childish cloud of emotion and shove it. Vinen and Ayham would not come up here, and though I'm weak from the coma I'm not incapable. I laid the brace flat out next to Bane's stomach and took a firm grip onto his left shoulder. "I'm going to roll you now," I warned, and then heaved.

It took me six tries before I finally had the strength and leverage to heft him onto his belly and into position. With him now laying against the brace, though, it was easy so long as he didn't try to tense or flail. _I could only be so lucky._ As I buckled the belt closed he spasmed and arched back, slamming his head into mine and sending me sprawling. It was a full minute of spots and fading vision before I could gather myself up and continue, but I mentioned nothing. I wrenched the straps up over his shoulders and clamped them shut, compressing and straightening Bane's spine so the muscles could relax.

With all of my sanity already gone, I debated on the unthinkable for only a few seconds.

* * *

Past the film of red-wired pain Bane felt an alien sense of physical sensory information. Despite all of the past encounters with his back and its temper, he'd never felt relief so immediate and complete. As the veil retreated over his senses he realized what it was, but was hesitant to move to address it. His cellmate had actually managed to get him into his back brace, but it wasn't just that. The knots of collected muscle tissue were being kneaded away by her small, deft hands. "Don't kill me," she grumbled with displeasure, "I'm just trying to help."

He managed an indiscernible grunt for a response and laid there, trying to catch his breath and get feeling back into his hands and legs. The humiliation alone of the situation made his lungs heavy with lead. She moved her hands down to the small of Bane's back, just above the heaviest damage and where the belt rested, and worked the tension loose. Even against his pride he had to admit his back had never felt better than it did now, as she massaged the stress and aches out. "That is enough," he sighed, flexing his hands and pushing himself to his feet.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" she asked, putting herself underneath his left arm to support him. They both knew if he collapsed that it would not help if she were there, but only make it worse.

_Still, the sentiment is-_

Is what? Bane didn't let the tangent of thought move any further. "I am fine, now get out from under me." He pressed her away from him and stood on his own, heading out of the washroom and towards the door.

He looked behind him when he felt a hot gaze at his back. She was looking at him with her fluid crystaline eyes alight, arms crossed and a deep frown curving her lips downward. "Where are you going after something like that?" she asked expectantly, sounding as if she were going to scold him.

"Wherever I like. Are you going to reprimand me, now?"

The unmarred brow under her hair creased with unamused displeasure. "I just so happen to think you're being stupid, going out after that." She uncrossed her arms and gestured at him violently as she spoke. "There were people outside the cell, watching and looking for you, Bane. You called out for me and the whole prison heard. _Lazaro_ heard."

The mention of that rotten, flea-bitten maggot set his teeth on edge. Bane couldn't remember ever calling out for anyone, least of all his bunkmate, but if he had and Lazaro had heard, it could only bode ill for the future. "Then I suppose I'm going to Lazaro." Getting rid of him sooner rather than later was the best route.

"Don't." She made no vocalization to plead or to question. Her voice was a demand.

Bane turned himself around completely to stare her down with the fullness of his large frame. "Or what?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Or nothing. Just don't. It isn't worth it. And he's got a couple of people under his thumb that I'd like to live for a bit longer. I don't think you can guard yourself and three others, can you? Even you aren't that strong, especially right now."

"Three others? You and who else? Who is so important?"

"There's three not including me," she corrected, narrowing her eyes, "I can protect myself and one or two of them. The new cook, Barsad, is nothing more than a small boy. He cannot be any older than 13. There's another boy here who must be Barsad's companion, or at least came here with him, but I couldn't talk to that one. Another prisoner here already has his hands on him. And then there's the bald one with the face fur. He's the one you mentioned that kept coming to see you, I think."

The prickling pain at the base of his neck made Bane grimace in anger. The fact that they would send children here so easily made him sick. It couldn't be helped, and fostering kindness towards them would only cripple their learning here. "I'm going to kill Lazaro tomorrow, when I'm at my strength. Count on it."

The rest of the evening went by silently. Bane went to get his rations and came back. They ate together in a comfortable muteness that was reminiscent of their first few months together. They had said all that needed to be said, and neither would be swayed, so why fight it anymore? It was the beauty of their friendship. He didn't have to beat her down or kill her to have her submit or endure. She knew when he was not going to change his mind, and more often than not she left it at that. When they finished their meals, Bane watched his companion water and tend the plants, plucking and cutting the dead and overly ripe away.

Twice he noted that she popped the ripe trimmings straight into her mouth, and while it should have set him off, it didn't. She was caring for his garden and she deserved something for compensation. He was glad she didn't take the better of the plants as most others would. Before he watched for too long, he laid back on his cot and started to meditate. Only just when his eyes closed, did she address him and break the silence. "We have a few strawberries that are going to rot in the next few days if we don't eat them… Do you want them?"

He sat up to see what she meant and stifled down the instinct to punch when he came face to face with her. "Do not come so close to me again," he warned, then stuck out his hand. "Let me see the berries." She handed the fistful over and watched him speculatively. The seven berries were all oddly shaped and different in shade from one to another, covered in larger seed lumps than he recalled the last time they had them. "What did you do to them?" he asked, curious.

A small smile played over her lips. "The dead trimmings mixed with coffee grinds and wood ash are good for the soil and for the plants."

"How did you manage to come across the last two?"

The grin on her face widened. "You're not the only one with friends here, now." Bane did not like the idea of his cellmate conversing with others here besides the doctors and the two other women. It took all of his restraint not to voice said dislike and back it up, but he managed. He was about to take one of the fruits and eat it when she stopped him, a gleam of an idea in her eyes. "Where's the moonshine?"

"Since when do you drink?" he asked, quirking a brow at her.

"I don't, but think about how much it goes for normally. Now think about how much it will go for when it's flavored with strawberries."

She did have a point. "Okay, fair enough. It's in the washroom, behind the brick in the bottom of the left corner of the back wall." With that, they pried the small berried apart and stuck them in the large bottle of accumulated alcohol and stored it away. "How long do you think? Three weeks?"

"The longer it sits, the better it tastes. Leave it until the time calls for it. If we need to bargain for something, it'll be there."

Bane nodded in agreement. There was nothing they needed now that they couldn't get from a pit fight or negotiating with lesser trinkets. He clambered back into his bed and sighed, settling into the uneven mattress for a good night's rest. After the morning he'd had, and the stress of getting his celly back on her feet, then the attack on his back… After all of that, Bane had plenty of reasons to want to disappear from the world of the wakeful for a while.

* * *

It was well into the night when Bane awoke to an uproar. Someone was yelling at the height of their lung power in… Bane's senses immediately jumped to hyper awareness and he lurched to his feet to peer down to the ropemaster's outcropping. It _was_ Lazaro, and he was bellowing his anger towards the unhinged door where the cook lived. Something dark against the already grim coloring of the stones glinted in the pale light of the waning moon. _Did Lazaro kill the boy or something?_ Bane frowned in confusion. A sudden sense of knowing passed over him then, and he whipped his head back to look at his cellmate.

What he found surprised him. He'd anticipated her to be gone, but she was still in her bed, drooling on her left arm indignantly. _If it wasn't her, then who the hell was pissing off the Spaniard_? Bane didn't have time to waste listening to the whining man's ballad. "_Callate la boca, cabrón_!" he boomed from the doorway and then retreated to his bed. Lazaro made crude responses, but after a few minutes of silence for a response, the large latino quelled and all was quiet again.

* * *

Morning came far too quick. Bane ached in his back, particularly where the bunched nerves around the stab wound had converged in the night. He sat up and swung his feet out onto the ground, stretching out wide. As he came back to relax and start his exercising, he saw that his bunkmate was gone. He called her name but got no response. "Woman, if you're ignoring me first thing in the morning, I'll double up your training for the day, so help me."

The resulting reply made him grin wryly. "You must need a lot of toilet paper, Bane, because you're talkin' a lot of shit." The smile died on his face though, when he heard her whispering and cursing.

"Is there someone in there with you?" he growled, his body immediately tense.

"Son of a-" she cursed, throwing the dividing cloth back and snatching Bane by the front of his brace, hauling him into the back room. Her words flooded out in a rush of energy. "This is Aliash, and Lazaro was going to kill him last night in retribution for Barsad, the cook, failing to kill me. I stopped him, but I didn't have anywhere to put him, so I brought him here. Yes I know you're angry, yes I care, but at the moment I care more about making sure _he_ doesn't get killed for being without a guard, now."

* * *

Bane had no idea how to respond. He looked at me with all the incredulity of a dog smacked for eating his own food. Blood rushed to his face as he tried to find words, but nothing came to his tongue. Instead, he pursed his lips, scrunched up his face and slammed his right fist into the wall nearest my head. He pulled back and let his knuckled hand hand limp, bleeding at his side. "I don't know whether to commend you or kill you!" he finally said, expression bewildered. "I do not even… Where do I even _begin_?!"

Bane shook with the clear vexation."Take care of this," he threw his battered hand in the direction of Aliash, who was wide-eyed but standing defiant behind me. Blood splattered the boy, but he did not cow.

I frowned my displeasure at the way Bane was having a tantrum. "Would you rather I let Lazaro live and let him kill two innocent boys?"

Bane whirled on me and pressed his entire presence down around me, "_Two_ boys?"

I looked right back at him without fail, refusing to be hindered by his intimidation attempt. "Yes-"

"Two." Barsad interrupted me and stepped out from behind his taller friend to stare up at Bane, eyes daring my friend to try and hit him.

"I- You- This… This is ridiculous, damn it! Do they know who who you are, too? Did you reveal your secret to the whole damn prison?!" Bane snarled again and smashed his fist into the wall over and over. Aliash and Barsad looked to me skittishly, inquiring with their eyes on what to do. I shook my head and waved them to step back. I opened my mouth to respond, but Bane was on top of me before I could get a word out. "Where will they sleep? Do you intend on protecting them in the state you're in? Damn it, what were you thinking!? You're just 24 hours out of a coma you idiot!"

"I thought to save people who deserved to be saved, like you who saved me and the other two. Do either of these two look like they are dangerous?" I dared myself forward and pressed my forehead to Bane's and then I did the unthinkable; I smacked him. _Hard._ "You don't get to try and intimidate me, nor do you get away with acting like that in front of young men. _Teach them better than that_, Bane. Don't let them become another pair like Zahid and Amar."

My heart raced in my chest as Bane registered that he'd been struck. He looked from one of my eyes to the other and slowly pushed his full weight down on me. Even for how defiant I was and how strong I felt inside, my body was still twigs and paper underneath his honed form, and I stepped back to keep him from crushing me. "Stay here," Bane said evenly, smothering me with the weight of his intense gaze. "_All of you_." He emphasized his last statement and then left the washroom and the cell.

"What do we do?" Barsad ventured when he was sure Bane had left.

Aliash replied before I did. "We will have to fight to win a cell, or die, brother."

"I will find a way to keep you here or in the cook cell until I am strong enough to fight in a _Tohaadii_," I assured them both. "I can't issue a challenge I don't know I'll win, and I won't win anything in the state I'm in, so for now, stay here until I can figure something else out."

Aliash clearly had the stronger of convictions, as he was the one who asked the hard questions. "What did he mean about you? What secret?"

"Now, if I told you that, what purpose would it serve to call it a secret? One day, Aliash. But, not today."

"It's not something that will get us killed, is it?" Barsad pressed.

"No. It's just… I happen to have one of the rarest commodities here, is all. Leave it at that, please."

Aliash and Barsad looked at one another. "He has every right to his privacy, Barsad," Aliash admitted, though not without scrutiny.

"I'm not asking you to trust me, you two. I'm just asking you to not kill me or steal from me while I try to help. It will take me a month or so to try and build back up, but it will happen, and Bane will come around. The only thing we can do now is train and endure. So let's start with the training part."

* * *

And that's how it went for almost two months. It took that much time for me to get back into proper form, and Bane was scarce the entire time, but he let the boys stay on the grounds we could not leave the cell until I won them a room of their own. Bane fought more than three times a week while we occupied the cell, winning every fight without pause. In between the training and observation of Bane's fights, I learned more about the boys. Barsad and Aliash were brothers from a set of parents who hated each other. Their father had raped their mother and left her to raise the child by herself.

Neither parent expected twins, least of all both boys. With the news that the children were boys, the father came back, married their mother and stayed to raise them for reasons they still didn't know. He was abusive from the time they were born until their sentence here, and they both agreed that it was their father who sent them to rot in the Pit. "Barsad was the braver of the two of us when it came to _Baba_, but I always fought the fight when it came to it," Aliash explained. Today we began talking about life outside the Pit and the things we missed, and then Barsad started in about his plans to escape.

"No one escapes here," Bane said from the outside of the cell as he watched us do our crunches between the cots. "Everyone tries, but the only way out is in the white cloth."

"We're going to do it, Bane," Barsad bit back, now unafraid.

Bane grunted his disagreement and turned away from the cell, leaning onto the cool metal. "I look forward to seeing you fall."

The evening is the only time we all sit around in Bane's company, and it's Bane who brings the food. "I will issue the challenge tomorrow," I manage to say between conversations, poking the gruel and flecks of strawberry (which Bane gave to each of us) with lethargy. Barsad and Aliash look at me with suppressed excitement and joy, while Bane is not so positively moved.

"Stand up and spar with me," Bane commands. There is no room to deny him. The two boys scramble out of the way and we put all of the food aside. Bane puts himself in a lax position and watches me take my own fighter stance. "Ready?" he asks, but I'm already lunging. The first three blows land against his effortless guard, but as I ease back into the motions of fighting, all of my training floods back in. _Block, deflect, parry, attack_. The speed of our motions increase and I feel the heavy weight start into each of Bane's attacks. _He's taking this seriously,_ my instincts warn as I wrap my right arm around his and use his momentum to gain ground behind him.

Before I can fully take advantage of his exposed back, he rammed into my cot and fell face first into my grainy pillow. I didn't know whether to laugh or to ready myself for a blind attack, but as Bane sat up the pillow stuck to his face and I collapsed into pieces laughing. Aliash and Barsad fail at stopping their own mirth, and Bane pried the object from his face to glower. "Low blow," he complained, but the laughter was making him chuckle as well. Before too long, all of us were in tears over the hilarity and the tension over the previous two months feels like it dissipates.

Bane calls out my nickname and the laughing stalls. "Get the alcohol."


	29. The Thing That Is The Fire

**Author's Note: Here is the part one of my surprise for everyone. I have an actual part two, but it involves a drawing and a couple of links (which will be in our milestone chapter, 30). I hope this is satisfying in displaying the internal conflict as well as the external with Bane. As always, please rate, review, follow and favorite. Much appreciated!**

I falter at his words. "The… Wait, really?" I forced out, unable to form another way to respond.

"Yes, really," Bane relented, casting a sideways glance at me. "I would have us all savor the _fruits_ of our labors. A "good luck" drink if you will. You will need it tomorrow, yes?"

I happened to disagree but it was a rare thing to see Bane like this, so I complied without anymore questions. When I brought the bottle back from the washroom, he took it from me and let the compounded pressure from the fermenting strawberries ooze out of the corner of the bottle before inspecting it. As he looked at the slightly pink concoction, I spared a peek at the brothers. Barsad and Aliash were watching us both, detached from the situation but invested in its outcome. "Bane, are we going to share that with the boys?"

My cellmate and friend looked at me with a disapproving stare. "Why wouldn't we?"

"It's not right according to most laws up above," I responded, the words more instinct than belief. I didn't uphold the law myself, as I'd been drinking or eating far worse to hone my body from poisons and drugs, but these boys seemed untainted by that kind of life. Some part of me didn't want to pull them into it. _Some part_ thought we would make it out of the Pit.

"Fuck the laws." Bane shook the bottle vigorously, let the pressure out once more, and then took a hearty swig. "Shit!" he cursed when the liquid fire dropped down his throat, "That stuff is _good_." He drew out the word with honest appreciation and passed it over to me.

Rather than immediately take it, I looked from him to the bottle and frowned. "I'm not exactly keen on booze, Bane," I hinted, quirking a brow. I waved it away, but he grunted and pushed it forward persistently. Without much room for an argument, I gave in and took the damn glass, staring speculatively into its contents. After a moment, I couldn't stand the silence and I bit the bullet, pouring the blazing alcohol down my gullet. The sensation was disgusting and nauseating, but I managed a good few mouthfuls so I didn't have to drink again on the next pass around. "Here," I gasped, waving the bottle towards Aliash, who was closer than his brother.

"It cannot be _that_ bad," he chastised, taking the bottle and sniffing. "Okay, maybe it _is_ that bad." Aliash made a similar face to mine when he finished his own quaff, scrunching up his face and coughing. Without a word he passed the drink onto Barsad who by then had turned pale.

"This isn't poisoned, is it?" he asked, ever the cautious one of the group. The three of us looked at him with snarky expressions and he quailed. "Okay, okay," the boy conceded and tentatively gulped a mouthful before grimacing and pushing the drink back to Bane. It was then that I noticed my cellmate was flushed and grinning boyishly.

"_What_ are you smiling about?" I prodded, frowning. The buzz of the alcohol was making it hard to concentrate, its insistence humming inside the base of my skull.

He looked into the bottle and saw it half empty, then downed the entire thing, fruit and all. "I will need liquid courage if I'm going to continue this night," he answered, tossing the empty bottle onto his cot. The bootleg shine was stronger than all of us anticipated, and before too long Aliash was off kilter, leaning on his brother and laughing. "See?" Bane slurred, pointing to the twins, "that's what I mean."

The deep burn of the alcohol made my lids heavy despite the early evening, and while I listened to the conversation that sparked from Bane's sideways insult, I've listed off to my right, lost in the words of my friends. _You've never had friends,_ Ra's whispered inside my head. _You now have five. Perhaps six, though I see something more than a friend in that one…_ My master paused, holding my attention. It felt as though he was savoring the moment before finishing._ Is it so bad to be here? To have friends?_

My response was immediate. _It is when I cannot be with my siblings, or at your side. I would trade nearly all of this to return to the surface and prove my loyalty. You gave me life, Master. You gave me-_

"Hey!" a hushed bark startled me from the thought. I half-heartedly opened my eyes and looked up. The pitch dark of night stared back at me, but I find I can still see the silhouette of Bane. "You passed out," he informed me softly. The slur in his words was still evident.

"How long have I been down?" I groaned in a whisper, trying to will my senses awake.

The pause in Bane's reply tells me it's been a while. "You fell asleep sitting up, but none of us noticed until you leaned and fell into my lap. By then…" Bane shrugged and then it hits me on exactly why. I'm laying in the folds of his lap, defensively curling around one of his thickly muscled thighs with my arms.

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness, oh my goodness," I gasped, scrambling up and away. "I'm so sorry!" Before the words are registered as said, I felt warm hands pulling me back by the shoulders and I tasted the hot burn of alcohol on my lips. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my instincts screamed, _He's kissing you, you retard!_ The obviousness of that statement failed to elude me, but I can't help but feel a bit let down. _He had to drink until he was seeing double in order to do so._

All of my logical mind snarled in response. _Like you give a damn._ I couldn't deny the truth of that, nor did I want to. My emotions were so convoluted between the way I had been raised and the inebriation I currently suffered from, but I knew that I didn't want the moment to end. _What woman would_? Through the fog of drunkenness I found control of my limbs and tentatively touch Bane's cheek with one while wrapping the other about his neck. He jumped with each touch, but eventually I coerced him into relaxing.

He held me for what felt like hours, at a comfortable closeness with the distance that kept him sane. His hands never left my shoulders, and he was surprisingly gentle even with his size and gruff nature. He gripped me gingerly, as if I would break with the slightest jostling. _He touched me like I mattered_.

* * *

The entire situation confused him. _Why am I doing this?_ He dealt himself insult after insult in his head, but still he couldn't manage to make himself pull away. Something about this woman curbed all of his logic, all of the things he'd come to know. While it _was_ unsettling, it also ignited something primal and utterly intoxicating in him. He'd never known a woman and had never cared for the idea, but now he wasn't so sure. Urges and emotions that confounded his world and its rules were running rampant because he'd decided on a whim to save her. It drove him insane, but she had kept his back and kept him in line since he'd done it and even though she was stubborn and infuriating at times, he'd not seen such loyalty (least of all to him) before.

It was liberating. She felt part of a world he had never seen, and he envied, despised, loved, and longed for her because of it. _The liquor is making you soft,_ a quiet part of his brain whispered in warning, growling its displeasure in breaking the rules of his world. But Bane could no more pay it attention than he could to the rotation of the stars. He craved knowledge of all kinds, and in a selfish way he convinced himself then, that to know this woman was to know more about the world outside of the Pit. To know her was to know more, and perhaps that would be the key in his ascent.

Bane would escape the Pit. Though he denied anyone else their hopes, he held his resolve. He would taste the sweetness of freedom. He would _not_ make the same mistake twice. This time he would beat the odds, and he would find his father. He would find the man whose sentence he had paid with his life. _How did you end up in this mindset,_ his internal voice questioned, cutting off the rest of his thoughts. _That damned woman you still have lip-locked to your fat, ugly face is why. Now get a grip and get her off of you before you __**really**__ make a mistake you can't fix._

But how could he? He lost his every sense of rationality as she stole his breath away by the simple contact of holding herself against him… _Holding him like he mattered_.

* * *

He tasted sweet from the strawberry moonshine, but underneath the influence of alcohol he was naturally warm and heady, like a light herbal tea. _Better than the tea Ra's Al Ghul made for you?_ My mind was working against me apparently, because that succeeded in causing me to break from Bane's lips. He didn't shove me away or pull me closer, so I just sat there thinking. _Why this? Why now? Why did this-_

"Do you know what today is?" Bane suddenly asked in a hushed tone.

I reflect momentarily, thinking on birth dates but none ring true for the day. "I'm ashamed to admit, but no, I don't know."

Bane huffed in the dark, a mock laugh of slightly bitter taste. He let go of my shoulders but didn't push me away, instead leaning his head on my shoulder and sighing. "You are an enigma, you know that?"

"What is that supposed to mean and how does that explain what day it is?" Exasperated, Bane sat up and eased me out of his lap, moving to the door of the cell to look up into the night sky. He neglected to reply, content with letting me wonder in silence. "Bane," I pressed, standing up and approaching his right side, where in my half-drunken stupor, I see he still wore the brace I had crafted for him. _What does that even mean,_ my conscience asked, but I didn't have time to reply.

"Today marks three years since you've been here," Bane mumbled, his hands gripping the bars of the cell tightly.

_The fact that he remembered what you did not speaks volumes_. I looked up at him with a sense of awe, seeing the faint sheen of emerald in his eyes as he spared a glance down at me. "Why is that so important to you?" I persisted, touching the brace on his right arm. He bristled and started to pull away, but having now spent three years with him I wasn't going to let the opportunity dry up without an answer of some sort. To keep him from escaping I leaned up and braved his wrath, initiating the kiss for the first time. He stiffens until I am kissing granite, but I won't let him free.

I dare myself further than he would ever go and I tentatively peel his right hand free of the bars, holding it interlaced in my own. I refused to hold him against his will, and I felt the emotion draining from his limbs, but I would have him hear me out. I break the contact and hold his hand up between us. "Don't ever feel obliged to do that ever again. I don't need you to do that. You are worth more to me than that, and if you cannot come to terms with whatever it is you feel, I will stand by you as your ally and I will have your back as no other would. Have no fear, I am not going to die or disappear."

Bane pulled away from my grip and I could tell his composure was breaking, but he denied it so hard. He took my hand instead and held it until I was sure the pressure would crush my bones. "I don't know how to react to this, just know that you are a fire…" he trailed off, putting his other hand over my wrist in a gesture similar to a handshake for a pact and stared at me in the dark.

"And all true infernos have one thing in common…

"They rise."


	30. Escape!

**Author's Note: It's the chapter we've all been waiting for! So... Long A/N will be long. I'm going to have a contest on this chapter. Due to this contest, this will be the only chapter for two weeks. So... Contest. Upon reading the entire chapter, whomsoever gives the most thorough review by the end of two weeks (from 9/11/13 - 9/25/13) will win a prize from me. The prize is The Dark Knight Rises Bane Winter Battle Bust figure. This prize was worth approximately $100 when I bought it, and I'm giving this away to the winner by mail. Don't believe me? Then obviously you're not going to win. /le gasp**

**Now, onto the surprises I have been preaching about for the past handful of chapters... I apologize ahead of time that I'm sending you on a bit of a trail here, but if you want all of the stuff I promised, you have to search "gaia online siibuna's bbc character archive" on google, click the first result, go to the last page of the forum, and then scroll to the bottom. When you get there, you'll have all three of your rewards provided via link. And don't worry, none of them are spammy virus crap. One is a photobucket link, and the other two are youtube gems. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, those links, and good luck to everyone with the contest! ****Anyway. Onto the enormous chapter! Rate, ****review****, follow and favorite! Tell your friends about this!**

The next morning came fast. Bane and I had laid on the floor, head to head, talking through until the early hours of morning, falling asleep only when the sun touched the rim of the Pit. He asked more questions than I'd ever been prepared for. Aliash and Barsad snuck down to Vinen and Ayham just before Bane and I fell to sleep and though I'd warned them time and time again, I didn't bother stopping them this time. I had stayed up too late and dealt with too many emotions to honestly deal with their young whims.

When I woke, it was late afternoon and I had somehow moved to my cot, where surprise after surprise assailed me. Bane was still asleep, having positioned himself at the middle of my bed on the floor, arms out as if… _He picked me up and put me in bed_, I realized warmly. He was snoring heavily, face shrouded by the hair he'd long been growing out. As I sat up to wake myself properly, he shifted defensively and curled his huge arm around my waist. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, since I had the most dire of urges to pee, and he just squeezed against my bladder and prevented me from moving. "Bane," I whispered softly, brushing the hair from his face.

He made no response. "Bane," I persisted, putting two hands to his shoulders and shaking gently. He grunted, immovable and stubborn. "Bane, you will wake up or I'll bite the hell out of you." Still he remained motionless, holding against my full bladder with a vice-like strength. "I warned you." I leaned down and did exactly as I said, biting into the thick skin of his unobscured shoulder. "Wake up, you dick," I hissed through clenched teeth, slowly increasing the pressure.

"Get. Off." Bane tensed the muscles underneath my teeth and forced me to let go or cripple my teeth. "_Don't_ do that again."

With my jaw now aching, I rubbed it sourly and frowned at him. "You were the one who was crushing my insides. I have to pee and I don't think you wanted me to piss on your head."

The disgusted expression on Bane's tired face was enough to make me laugh. "You have problems," he grumbled, releasing me and throwing himself up onto his own bed to sleep again.

After I relieved myself I came back to sit on my cot and found him to be watching me. "Does someone have a hangover?" I asked, tilting my head to stare at him evenly.

The dark circles and dismal demeanor around Bane answered for me. "I just want to sleep. Leave me be."

"Fine, fine," I relent, standing back up. When I finish running through my stretches, I look back to see him out cold, which I am thankful for. Today would be a day I didn't need his confusing presence overshadowing. Exiting the cell and descending a full ring of cells, I scanned them for the place where my target resided. Bane had told me last night about a prisoner who fit the kind of fight I needed to get back into the swing of things. I found the allotted cell and immediately made the call. "_Tohaadii_, Joser?" I inquired, more a proposition than a true challenge. From what I gathered looking into his cell, he was not much of a fighter. His room was barren and he himself seemed more a part of the landscape than part of the living.

His skin matched the mottled tan and earth color of the stones and it stretched over his smooth muscles nicely. It looked as if he'd been tanned down to the bone from years of sun, though in here there was none long enough for it. I looked him over well and noticed from the absence of scars that he must have been agile enough to evade most attacks. _Bane played you a fool,_ my cautious mind warned, displeased, but I couldn't back out now. He looked up at me from where he reclined in his small cot, vibrant amber eyes coolly discerning whether or not he cared to acknowledge my words. "You do not want to fight me, girl," he hummed in a salty baritone. "Walk away and I will pretend I did not hear you."

After my prolonged stay in the Pit, his insult did not disturb me. The likelihood he truly knew I was female was so infinitesimal that I hadn't noticed the namecall until after I'd reacted. "Would that the rest of the prison agreed, Joser. I guess they'll be swelling your ego _real _big, saying that you declined a _tohaadii_ from a "girl". I guess I'll be off." He didn't respond immediately, but when I was halfway back to my own cell, Joser appeared behind me and swung a limber jab towards my ribs.

The training from my childhood rushed to the forefront of my mind and I back-stepped into a pivot, glancing his thrust over my right forearm which I held out in front of me in a guard position. Perpendicular to his broad stance I peered up at him and smirked wryly. "Don't you know it's impolite to attack a "girl" when she's not looking?" I crooned with the same salt in my voice that he'd held earlier.

Joser frowned and stepped away, inhaling deep. "I accept your challenge on the condition we do it now, no restrictions and no cheating."

"I'm wounded you think me an underhanded man, Joser. I had thought better of you," I said, provoking him into an even more unsettled mood.

The response succeeded. Reddened and dark browed, Joser huffed and descended the steps into the water of the lowest ring (which I had to keep forcing myself to remember was actually a rectangle). Prisoners slowly started to notice the impending fight as I stooped lower into the Pit, approaching the makeshift arena. "_Tohaadii, tohaadii,_" the voices came, quietly and in sparse numbers at first. Then the boom of Bane's voice, the duet of Barsad and Aliash, and the throaty tenor of Lazaro rose up, calling all of the inmates from their hovels and perches._ In this one thing, they agree,_ I thought bitterly, turning my lips up into a grim smile of foreboding.

The water was cool on my bare feet as I slipped into the knee high pool. Joser was already in his stance and driving forward when I looked up to defend myself. He was smart, I would give him that. He had the right mentality about fighting, to catch your enemy off guard and end them quick. I parried the swift attack with a crouch and swept my left leg out to clear his feet from the ground, but Joser was too quick. Before my own attack made contact he was out of the water and sailing over me, bouncing off the steps to land at my back. _This isn't going to be an easy win,_ the fighter in my blood warned, euphorically happy in the most sinister of ways.

_Better a challenge than a beat down._ I spun and met the second attack literally head on, thrusting my forehead out to meet his fist. The sound of his bones crunching and splintering echoed in my ears as the world doubled, then tripled. The impact was jarring, but I regained composure quickly, shooting my left hand up to his elbow in an effort to break it. Thankfully, Joser did not appear to be used to getting wounded and the shock of the breaks in his hand slowed his reaction time. The elbow bent back with a resounding snap and Joser's rich tan cheeks paled. He bellowed a soul-shaking cry of pain and wrenched his arm away from me, flourishing his unmarred knuckles sloppily. I eyed him darkly, disappointed. _Was this it? Was this all he had to offer me?_

He had strength and speed, but obviously his streak of winning had made him overconfident and willing to take risks most others would not. As he tried to clutch his encumbered arm to his chest, Joser heaved forward and attacked, all of his skills tossed by the wayside. _This really _is_ all he had to give,_ I sighed internally, twisting out of the way of the sloppy attack to respond with a hard backwards jab to his neck. _Good job, child,_ Ra's voice rang in my ears suddenly,_ but you're losing your form. Limber up and place yourself properly._ I hadn't noticed, but when I looked down Ra's was right. My stance was off and I had left myself open for an attack to my ribs.

_Thank you, Master._ With my enemy stumbling away I spun into the correct footing and spurred forward, jumping out of the water to kick him down. Joser stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, screaming again when he tried to support his weight with the obliterated right arm. With all my weight now on his back, and the crippled limb unable to support his weight, Joser collapsed into the water and thrashed beneath me. _He will drown if you let him._ "Do I let him live?" I called out to the crowd which had fell silent some moments ago.

No one opposed the killing of Joser, and I saw Bane nod once approvingly. _Condemned._ Joser fought until his lungs gave way and the water rushed in, suffocating him. The final throe of his life fading away sent shivers up my spine. I had killed another person, in a way that made most other men flinch. To drown was to be completely at the mercy of your opposer. No cheers accompanied Joser's defeat, and I felt an imposing weight settle in. _They will not forget this, whatever it may mean to them._ The gathering dispersed quickly and my three companions meandered down to meet me even as I strode up. "You were amazing!" Barsad beamed, grabbing me by the shoulder and shaking emphatically.

"Indeed you were," Aliash confirmed, holding my other shoulder and smiling softly. "Thank you, brother. This means much and we both thank you."

"Yeah! Thank you!" Barsad let go of me and punched his brother in the arm in a gesture of excitement. "We get our own cell, Ali!"

I stopped them from their joy with a raise of my hand. "I have to retrieve the key from Lazaro, first. Lazaro has the key to every cell except Bane's and the doctors." The twins blanched and looked at me with despair. "Now don't be like that," I scolded, turning on my heel before Bane could step between them and stop me. "I will get the key, don't worry. I'll even get the spare." _You say that now,_ my conscience whined, _but doing so it a completely different matter._ And so what if it was? I would get it done whether it meant killing Lazaro or otherwise making him hand it over freely.

The ropemaster was sitting on the ledge of his outcrop when I ascended the steps, deep in conversation with the same man who had given Bane the wrist guard I dropped. His presence had become somewhat of an annoyance in the end, but perhaps now would be the moment I could glean some information from them both. Lazaro saw me approach and put a stop to the conversation. "What do you want now?" he sighed, openly expressing his disinterest with a roll of his eyes before he settled them on me.

"I want the keys to Joser's cell," I replied, staring him down without shying away. "_All_ of the keys."

Lazaro's brow perked up with intrigue. "And you think asking me is the way to go about that?"

"I'm not asking."

"And I'm not giving."

"Do you want to _make_ me take them, then?"

"It's hilarious that you think you can take them at all. You don't even know where I keep them."

"Third row of stone handholds, above the cell where Zahid used to stay, inside an indent in the wall." The faint twitch of Lazaro's lips was enough to prove my accusation true. "I can get them _all_ myself and sell them to the highest bidder, or you can give me the two keys I want and I'll be out of your hair," I shrugged passively. "Your choice, _Don Lazaro_."

The bald male next to the Spaniard leaned in and whispered something to him, to which Lazaro nodded. A heavily foreshadowing smile crept onto his face and Lazaro swung down to land next to me. "Your wish is my command," he said whimsically, padding away from me to where the keys laid in wait.

"Stay here, brah," his friend called out when I started after the ropemaster. "He'll be back."

"Should I be prepared for a fight considering what you said to him?" I responded, turning about to address him.

"Naw, you got this. It ain't no big thang." He gestured to the open stone ledges to either of his sides, "Take a seat, homie, I got no beef with you."

The fight only minutes ago had put me in a wary mood, so I declined. After a moment of silence, listening only to the dull roar of the prison and its residents, I took a stab at my own questions. "Who are you?" I venture, stepping closer so I don't have to raise my voice.

The bald man shrugged. "Just call me Noel. We're not gettin' out of here anytime soon, so names don' matta."

"Noel," I repeated, nodding slowly as I committed his name to memory. "Got it."

"So," Lazaro called out from the stairs below, garnering my attention, "what do I get in return?"

I spun and danced down the stairs to meet him, putting my hand out to take the keys. "You get no trouble, and I won't say a word about your key stash to Bane."

The Spaniard's dark complexion reddened, but he put the keys in my hand and pushed past me without another word. Noel called out for my name, but I waved and offered a silent smile.

Just over half a year passes by without much more trouble. Barsad and Aliash took their cell keys and made themselves a home, rarely venturing out unless escorted by Bane or myself. Strong or not, the boys knew that if they were caught unawares, they would be violated and killed. While they settled in, Bane and I visited Melisande, Talia and the doctors, between trying to get food without arousing Lazaro's unfortunate temper or running into Noel. It had been almost three months by the time we'd finally gone down to see the four of our friends, but none of them held it against us. They knew there were more problems than pleasures down here.

Talia enjoyed the company most of all. Her mother had started responding a bit more, but the commanding regality she once held died when she was despoiled. We visited often and Talia grew more and more attached to me, often throwing her quiet tantrums when I had to leave. Many a time I ended up having to stay in the back cell with her and Melisande for fear that Talia would scream and draw attention to herself. When Bane and I were not with either sets of friends, we fought. We fought each other, we fought the other prisoners, and we fought our own inner demons.

Bane teetered closer to the edge of blind rage as the months went by, only holding onto his calm demeanor by the thinnest of wires. I kept on him to fight me with all of his strength, but he still viewed me as less of a challenge. Half of me thought it was his pride, but a smaller bit knew it was he was afraid of himself hurting me. The part that cared more than he dared to acknowledge put his anger at arms length when it came to me. I admired that, but I hated it so much. To be unable to truly challenge myself or him was killing the warrior in both of us.

Lazaro grew more ruthless in the more recent months. Each time any of us went to get our rations from the chef (who had since been replaced, with Barsad abandoning the post), the Spaniard would harass us and cause problems. Even in the past couple of weeks it was getting to the point where Bane had to take Aliash and Barsad aside and speak with them, "man to men". He had grown to trust the twins and had long thought they could handle themselves, but with Lazaro growing more bold each day, they needed to avoid the ropemaster as best as possible, and Bane had the perfect ploy to lure them away.

Talia needed someone to play with besides Bane and myself, so Bane suggested they spend their free time with her. It came as much a shock to I as it did to Talia and the doctors, because Bane trusted no one with the knowledge of Talia, let alone the fact that _Bane_ knew of her _and_ her mother. It went hand in hand that the boys, though older in mind, were still youthful enough to entertain the small girl and not grow bored. Melisande reacted poorly to the idea at first, but Bane quelled her by forcing the situation one night. Talia fell in love with the twins immediately, making her mother hardpressed to continue to say no.

Ayham and Vinen were irritated with the increased volume of visitors, but eventually they also came to like the boys as well. Often we would have dinner together in the center cell, as we were this night, and we would play dice or converse about whatever happened to be on our minds at the time. Most times it ended up with the boys talking about fighting or religion while Talia, Melisande and myself played a variety of games to keep each other laughing. Laughter was the only thing that managed to get Melisande out of her stupor these days.

"I'm going to go get the rations tonight," Barsad piped up while the rest of us were conversing about the fight in the Pit this past morning.

I spared my face the notion of a frown and just smacked the boy in the head. "You know better than to think you can do that on your own," I scolded, "_I'll go._" Barsad rubbed his head sympathetically but shrugged his defeat, sauntering over to where Aliash and Talia were drawing stick people fighting a stick dragon.

Bane approached me from behind as I was leaving and took my left hand in his right. "Thank you," he whispered, voice begrudging each syllable despite his sincere attempt.

I laughed reassuringly. "It's not a problem, so don't strain yourself," I grinned honestly, pulling my hand free to pat him on the shoulder. He watched me with a curious expression as I left him there, putting a strange feeling in the air around me. Something about the whole day had felt off, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Bane and I had both had a similar nightmare last night, which we'd found had happened on more than one occasion since my near-death experience after Trogg and Lazaro's betrayal. On top of that, Barsad and Aliash had felt the same sensation and said as much this morning.

I didn't have time to dwell on it though, so I brushed the thoughts away and went down to the chef's cell. Lazaro was standing vigilant as ever, eying me darkly from above. To my surprise he let me alone as I opened the cell door to the cook's hall. That alone was enough to make my sixth sense scream, but I couldn't pay it any attention now. I was getting food for the group, after all. "Hey," I called out from the hall, down to where the chef was cooking, "I need eight rations put together… You know, the usual."

I waited at the mouth of the hall for a good ten minutes to try and let him have his privacy (this cook was paranoid and a wiry kind of dangerous I didn't particularly care to deal with), but he never came forward. "Hey, chef!" I barked, but got no reply. _What the hell? Is he sleeping on the job?_ Foregoing all courtesies, I strode into the chef's room and found it to be empty. The cooking pot was simmering, but the lanky cook was nowhere to be seen. "What the-"

"I got you," Lazaro hissed from behind me, wrapping rope around my throat. "If you so much as squeak, I will wring the life out of you."

_How the hell did he get behind me without my knowing it,_ I thought too late, watching the world dim to black.

* * *

Inside the cook's large room, Lazaro dragged me by the throat to the far corner. He slammed me against a warped wooden table and hefted both my wrists up behind my back. Though the rope around my neck was tight and biting, I laughed. "You mean to rape me, do you?" I choked out, writhing against the Spaniard even as he picked me up by my backwards facing arms.

"I don't mean to," he growled back, the thick bulge of his intentions pressing between my thighs. "I will. Have no fear of that."

_You may _think_ so, _I thought strongly, preparing myself for the oncoming events. It happened in a matter of minutes; As Lazaro let himself free from his underclothing and ripped my own away, I let him have his false sense of security and take his first selfish thrusts. Ra's had taught me early on to prepare for a situation like this, to suspend the sense of fear and violation and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Those training moments made Lazaro's unskilled restraint and attacks at my back easy to bear. Just as I was about to break free as my Master had shown me, the chef appeared in my peripherals with a knife in hand.

_Son of a bitch,_ I cursed inwardly as Lazaro became more vigorous with his attacks to my lesser regions. The cook padded close, just out of my view, and Lazaro grunted in response to whatever gesture was made. Despite my best effort and all of the training involved in preparing me for situations like this, I felt the lump of panic set into my throat with the introduction of the blade biting into my neck under the rope. "I will kill you if you scream," the chef rasped next to my ear, biting it carnally. As much as I wanted to balk from his touch I didn't move. I let them have their way. I fully intended to live through the ordeal.

Before ten minutes could pass, I heard Bane down at the end of the hall, calling my name roughly. _Apparently I had been knocked out longer than I originally thought_. Lazaro sneered his malicious discontentment and shoved my entire frame into the grain of the table, assaulting me with hapless fervor. He wanted to completely defile me before Bane could find us, and if I could not get the blade away from my throat, he would succeed. Luckily the chef took the cutlery away and bound forward to ambush my cellmate, leaving me to freely yell. Before I could manage to open my mouth, however, the collar of rope around my neck tightened and I gasped in an effort to retain the breath I had left. Lazaro gripped the noose with one hand and held my hands back with the other, molesting me violently in a way that crept deeper into my soul, even as I fought to stop it.

_Send yourself away, child,_ Ra's commanded from the deep recesses of my mind. _Go now, before it's beyond your control._ But where could I go? I could only follow his voice, and that stopped whenever I tailed it. Wherever he meant for me to go, I did not make it, and the climax Ra's had wanted me to avoid came crashing down. Bane burst into the room with the broken chef at his feet, cheeks flushed and a long, jagged gash peeling his skin open from shoulder to hip. Lazaro heaved the rope up high and showed me off as a trophy, thrusting a final time and emptying his loins over my backside, unabashed. Dread of a familiar and childlike kind weighed down my limbs and filled my chest with panic. The light was dimming in my eyes and I fought to try and stay focused, but even as I ripped my hands away from Lazaro, the dark of unconsciousness swept in. In the emptiness of unawareness, my last thoughts echoed dismally:

_I will die before I let myself be pregnant down here._

_My virginity will not cost me my life._

* * *

Bane had felt something was seriously wrong when his friend had not returned within half an hour of leaving. She never took any longer than that and she was not prone to the strike of whimsy. "I'm going to get our food," he mentioned in passing as he left his companions with the doctors. They didn't even respond, which surprised him little. In the end, all people _were_ just selfish and not worth his time. He was more surprised by the fact that Lazaro was not at his post when he approached. Bane called out for his friend, wary of the quiet emanating from the hall, but she did not respond. _She is in danger,_ his instincts whispered harshly, but he already knew that. _She always responds._

Upon entering the chef's hallway, Bane was met with the familiar sensation of foreboding. Only once previously had he felt something like this, and that was the night she had been cast down here. _Now's not the time to reflect,_ his instincts chastised. The spindly limbed man that called himself the cook came quickly from the shadows of the walkway and lashed out, wild arcing swings intended to slice and maim. The blade, Bane noted in passing, was the same knife he'd seen Trogg use to cut oats, and it still held the chip midway down the edge from where Trogg had angrily smashed it against the cooking pot almost seven years ago.

Beyond the fragments of reminiscing he had been prone to at the time, Bane saw immediately what the intention was with the way the small man spurred forward. The attack was abrupt and unreadable due to the untrained flailing, and while Bane could backstep, he knew that's what the chef wanted. To retreat was to give more time for whatever else was happening, and Bane would not let this insignificant excuse for a man stop him. Instead of dodging, Bane rushed forward and let the slicing motion cleave his skin open before he snatched up the tiny framed cook and snapped his back over his knee. The chef didn't have time to scream as Bane carried him into the kitchen and threw him down at his feet, dead.

What he saw next was something he had never imagined in any of his most obscene nightmares. His best and only friend was bound by the neck as an animal might be, with Lazaro at her back holding onto her hands to keep her from fighting. _You let another of your companions down,_ his conscience growled, igniting a predatory fury inside his chest. Melisande could not defend herself, but _her_?! How could _she_, of all people, get caught and put into this position? She thrashed against her bindings and Bane saw, too late,_ always too late,_ that Lazaro had gotten what he wanted from her. Even as he found release upon her, Bane watched a different light take over his friend's eyes. The gloss of unconsciousness was brief before a hard amber color surged into her irises. _What the…_

Just as Bane came close enough to Lazaro to attack, she broke free from the Spaniard and reared up, smashing her skull into his face. "You have no business touching _me,_ wretch!" she screamed, spinning on her heels and tearing free of the rope at her throat. Uncaring of the state of her appearance she lashed out again, using her left hand to bury her fist into Lazaro's throat. "Scream for me, _if you can,_" she mused, even as the Spaniard gasped and choked on his own blood, clawing at his crushed windpipe. As Bane moved forward to put the Spaniard down for good, his cellmate stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest, fingers lightly touching the split in his skin right over his heart. "Bane, do not interfere." Her voice was cool, collected and unwavering.

What should he do? His every instinct was to destroy Lazaro, to eradicate him in the slowest and most painful of ways simply out of principle. But, his bunkmate had just warned him against it. She had all the right in the world to exact terrible revenge, but Bane's urge to defend and crush was compelling him to act. _The ropemaster is standing up,_ he reminded himself, watching the aforementioned man stumbling up with one hand still to his throat. "Are you satisfied now?" Bane's companion trilled, stepping into the nearest part of Lazaro's reach, her stance animalistic. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Bane stepped forward and said her name in warning, his intention to stop the situation before she hurt herself further. Even as she stood against the Spaniard's sloppy backhand, she looked at Bane in return, cheek red as she gazed at his every muscle rippling with the debate on how to react. She didn't budge. "Oh, are we going for seconds?" she sang nonchalantly, turning back to Lazaro. "Forgive me, let me assume the position."

Bane had rarely seen someone so calculating and derisive. His friend, who had been pretty sincere and detached from the prospects of fighting since coming into the Pit, was now on the complete opposite side of the pendulum. Before she had finished her sentence, she swept her legs between Lazaro's and spread his stance wide, causing him to buckle and fall forward. Superbly nimble in ways Bane had never seen from her, she maneuvered out from under the heavy frame of the ropemaster and ended up in behind him as he heaved on all fours. "You're so kind to give me my turn, Lazaro," she mused sweetly, casually stepping forward and swinging one leg over his middle so she was straddling him as a rider to a horse.

He snapped. Bane yelled her name again and rushed forward to stop her, but it was too late. "You'll forgive me if I'm not gentle?" she questioned rhetorically to him, grabbing Lazaro by the head and neck and twisting savagely. The Spaniard crumpled to the floor in a heap of limbs. As Lazaro's corpse fell free of her hands, Bane saw the golden hue in her eyes disappear and then she too collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

_"You don't have time to rest," Ra's Al Ghul explained, sitting across from me in his typical cross-legged position. He held a traditional cup of tea in his hands, peering over at me with his icy blue eyes. Eyes I had longed to see for years. "Morning comes early, and you need your strength for the day that is to come."_

_I didn't want any part of _the day that is to come_. Something deep inside my chest barred me from it. Warned me with fire and fury and pain to just stay away. "Master," I began, hesitant but frantic to move away from that feeling, "I will never escape from this Pit, will I? I have come to terms with that, but why do you continue this? Why do you help me? _You_ cast _me_ out, remember? What difference does it make if I rest or not? I am not a member of your League anymore. I-"_

_Ra's held one hand up to silence me. Calmly, as if we had been speaking of the wind and not of life, he sipped on his tea and sighed. "You forget one of the earliest lessons I taught you, child," he said pointedly, "fear cuts deeper than swords. You are afraid that I am not with you to guide you, but then if this were true, what then am I here, before you now?" Ra's held out the cup to me and smiled his knowing grin. "Drink, and wake from this. Time will answer all things."_

_Against all of my want to keep him talking, I obeyed and drank deep of the tea, tasting the liquid and feeling the warmth spread into my bones. Awareness started to fill the empty void where he and I sat together, and in the fading images of my dreams, Ra's held one hand out to me and whispered, "Rise."_

I opened my eyes to see the familiar veined ceiling of Vinen's cell. A deep ache was already settling into the base of my skull, drowning out most of the calm control I usually held over myself. _What happened that I ended up here?_ "Bane?" I called out reflexively, sitting up in the early light of morning. If we had been in a fight, I had to know if he was well._ If he had been scarred up again._

Immediately he rose from where he had been laying, at the side of my bed on the floor. "You're awake," he said, a curious tone in his voice. He was bandaged from the neck to below his back brace and his eyes looked extraordinarily weary. _What did I do,_ I thought, sickened. _Did I do this to him?_

"Yeah, I'm awake," I replied, snarky despite the situation I may or may not have been the cause of. "Why are we in here? I don't recall making it a habit to go into a coma." I sounded more confident than I felt.

Bane frowned, looking me over from head to toe. "You got into a fight. Took a hit to the head. You won, but you passed out." He was scrutinizing in his visual once over of me, causing my skin to crawl. _There is something off about today._ "Feeling better?" he asked after a long pause. I opened my mouth to answer, but he interrupted, suddenly hyperactive. "Hold that thought." Bane pushed himself up and vacated the cell, searching in the connected rooms for something. After a moment of me not thinking he'd return, he managed to surprise me and came back to sit on the cot across from me, bearing a pitcher of some dark liquid. "Vinen says to drink this. It will help with the headaches and muscle cramps."

_Strange. He never did this before when I had this kind of issue. _"You're acting uncommonly kind," I ventured, putting my thoughts to words. "What did I miss, how long have I been out?"

"Only a night." Bane didn't elaborate further and I had nothing else that would drive him to speak more. I didn't feel like sitting in the silence of confusion with him as my company today. Before he left me again, I made the move to leave, and spent the next couple of hours in our cell, washing off and inspecting the damage from the fight I couldn't remember. _What the hell did I miss?_

* * *

"Who the fuck left the door unlocked!?" Bane screamed, forcing himself out of Vinen's small quarters, past two lumbering idiots he vaguely recognized as Abdul and Ankur. There were too many people in the cells for this to be a treatment. _Way too many._ He noticed, too late, that the two doctors were held back by a large prisoner who turned the moment Bane had yelled.

"You're not getting-" he grunted, putting a hand on Bane, but his words stopped short with Bane's fist slamming into his throat and then again in his face. _A mighty useful tactic,_ Bane noted, recalling the night previous. Without her fighting next to him, Bane felt oddly unmatched in the closeness of the rooms. _Two, three, four -_ He counted four and more coming to finish the job._ What are they all doing in here?_ Melisande screamed and Bane could see she was being dragged out from her cell, away from Talia who was trouncing forward with a tiny dagger, stabbing wildly.

_Not you too,_ he thought for the briefest of seconds before brushing past the rest of the men in the confined space, sweeping Talia up and fleeing before she could be taken advantage of like her mother would no doubt be. Most of the inmates he past on his way down the stairs didn't even notice the lanky bundle in his arms. The prison was too busy with the prospect of being able to _fuck a hole_ that didn't curse them to their religious hell. _Let it be quick._ His cellmate ran up just as he had found a safe corner, her eyes wide, searching. "Are you hurt? What's going on? Why is Talia-"

* * *

"No time for that, I need your help," Bane ran over my questions, the look in his eyes describing the true implications of the situation. _We will not make it out of this._ The truth of that lay in the sole fact that he asked me for help rather than instructing me on where to stand and how high to jump. "Take Talia and get her to the rope, we are going to hoist her up. I will cover you. _Hurry_." The prison was buzzing with the fury of the day, every inmate out of their cell to see and participate in whatever was going on. "MOVE!" Bane snapped, shoving the ball of limbs that was Talia into my arms. _No time, no time. There's no time,_ I cursed internally, speeding up the steps to where the ropes dangled for the climb.

Suddenly I was sprawling on my side, struggling to keep Talia from being crushed. "Hello there," a prisoner smiled viciously, standing over us both. His clammy hands tore at my robes as I kept him from touching Talia. She screamed and fought to escape, to defend me as I defended her, but I kept her pinned. "Oh ho!" the attacker exclaimed with victory. "WE HAVE ANOTHER WOMAN HERE!" Whether he was talking about Talia or myself didn't matter. The fact was that we were compromised. As I felt his hands grip the hem of my undergarments I saw Bane, assuming an air more deadly than ever I had seen.

The pull on what little of my robes remained died as I watched Bane pick up my attacker and throw him clear across the Pit. He rushed over and picked me up by the shoulder, not looking back once to see the broken mess he'd made of the would-be rapist. "Don't stop, just go!" he yelled, pushing me forward and falling in step.

I shook my head and thrust Talia into his arms. "If I do this, she will die. Let _me_ get _your_ back."

With no more words spared, we climbed to the ropemaster's alcove, only to find that the ropes had been withdrawn. Baleful words of many languages spilled from our lips as we turned and faced an oncoming tide of angry and carnal hands, all seeking selfishly. The reality of the end faced me in the eyes of the same men who stared me down on the night I was condemned here. I could not let Talia, child of my master and savior, true man to all things wholly good, die here under the hands of demons who thought themselves men.

"Talia," I hissed, turning her face towards mine, burying my eyes into hers, tears dancing at the edge of my vision. Bane held her close and watched, finality hanging over both of us. "Talia, go find your father. Find Ra's Al Ghul. _The fang that protects the head_. Remember those words, sweetie. Remember your Mawla, remember my words and for all our sakes, _climb._"

She nodded, eyes wide with fear and strength. "Mawla," she touched us both once and then scrambled up the walls with our help, safely out of reach of the bodies that surged forward to swallow us up. As we caught the last glimpse of Talia leaping across the threshold of where all other men failed, Bane and I crowed our final goodbyes, our futile hopes flying on the wings of a six-year-old's feet.

Without the room to fight properly, I had to succumb to the assault and find an opening when it presented itself. Luckily, while the largest of the assailing men had to restrain Bane, I found myself a space to crawl out. I escaped the thickest of the throng and instantly turned back. Terror of a primal kind seared the heat in my veins to ice. Bane was under all of them, being trampled and beaten and kicked into oblivion. I had to help. I had to save him. On the energy of sheer willpower, I slammed against the nearest prisoner with the full weight of my body and caused him to stumble to the side, then down a set of stairs.

To my horror, the stairs turned into a double set, then triple. The Pit around me spun wildly, threatening to blink out. _Not now. I can't pass out now. Fuck this head injury._ But, despite all my denying it, the darkness of unconsciousness overflowed and took me under, leaving me without any hope on whether I would live.

_If Bane was going to live._

* * *

_The ebon cloak of familiar death loomed over me. Again I felt half a child, peering into the emptiness of the void. "Pitch and dawn and rust with fawn," a foreign voice lulled into the deep. "Harken to its haughty roar, flecked with sorrows, ancient one, with wrath untold inside its claws, like naught you've ever seen before."_

_The lilting serenade echoed everywhere as I floated in no particular direction. Whoever appeared to be half-singing-half-saying the words was someone I had to know, but I could not place them with the haze of partial death over my senses. The sensation of drifting forward started into my bones and it was then I saw I was not truly in the dark, but rather in a varying shade of gray and black, as if I was upon the surface of a pool of ink. In the far distance all around me, small motes of light bobbed up and down atop the murky surface of whatever liquid we were resting on, giving off a sensation of werelight. Ahead of me they all seemed to be converging, collecting into two masses that I had sworn was not there a few moments ago._

_"Watch the demon's wings unfold, despairing oldest of aeons," the voice beckoned, its words terrible, but its tone falsely sweet. The pools of gray-white light intensified, coalescing into tighter packs. "Bearing black and red and gold, death; its poison in jagged jaws." Closer and closer I'm dragged until I'm almost upon the strange light, and it's then I see Bane, floating beside me, unconscious._

_"Bane," I whispered, touching his shoulder and shaking. "Bane, wake up. We have to go. Something is wrong here." He did not budge. His eyes were open, blankly staring back at me, but he would not rouse from his stupor. The lights ahead blazed, the apathetic glow they once emitted turning into a scorching inferno of white heat. As I watched them fuse tighter together, the pools turned into…_ No. They couldn't be._ "Bane!" I cried out, handling him more rough, as if it would help touch somewhere further into his soul. "Bane, c'mon. There's something going on."_

_"Just over the cusp and beyond, pick your path or be controlled…" the voice mused dispassionately. The viscous liquid pulled away from Bane and I, oozing over the two white lights that looked more and more like… _Don't say it.

_"Bane!" I screamed harshly, smacking his cheeks and pinching his arms. "Get up, damn it! Get up!" But still he didn't rise. Still, he would not move. "You're not allowed to do this, Bane! You're not allowed!" The cold burn of frostbite and starvation settled into the pit of my stomach as I faced the converging anomaly ahead of me._

_The silhouette of our demise rose from the depths of the uninhabited landscape and bared its terrible head. I felt the sting of certain demise slip underneath my skin as the voice once more sweetly sang, "Choose your partner, young or old. The bat, he comes, with eyes so cold…"_

_I couldn't stand it anymore. The disembodied voice was toying with me. "Fuck you!" I shrieked, standing up and staring down the final moment of Death forming in the infinite cavern. "You want me to pick? Fine! Here I am! I'm picking!" I rose and stood my ground, hell-bent on guarding Bane whether he was alive or dead._

_"Choose your partner, weapons drawn. Choose your partner, ancient one." The presence that had formed from the anomalous fluid and light opened its jaws and screeched. Long and piercing, the warcry consumed the entirety of the gaping landscape, bouncing off walls I could not see. A sensation of watching eyes grated on my nerves and I turned to my right, surprised at what my eyes met._

_"Wipe that look of your face," Bane said, the strength in his tone of voice destroying the despair that had been in my heart mere moments ago. His accent, which I had grown so accustomed to in the time we'd been friends, seemed thicker somehow. _That only ever happened when…_ I stopped my thoughts in their tracks, twisting into a defensive stance as I watched the black and white creature turn into the beast of all nightmares. _The Bat will swallow us whole!

_A gravelly voice probed inside the rippling tide that was the dark where I stood strong with Bane. Entirely too tired to listen, I waved it away and drowned it out with the current demon that began to unfurl its wings, but the voice persisted. Bane didn't appear disturbed by it, contrary he didn't even seem to hear it. I tried to dismiss the aggravating entity to concentrate on standing up to the monster, but the more I ignored it, the louder it got._

_And then I was on my back, sliding away from Bane as if I was being dragged by the scruff. He turned abruptly and rushed after me in an attempt to save me, but I was already too far. He reached out to me, then had to turn as the winged predator fell upon him. "NO!" I wailed, angry and demoralized, screaming at the top of my lungs, clawing at the invisible entity which kept dragging me further and further away._

"Wake up," Aliash whispered gruffly, shaking me by the shoulders. Every centimeter of my skin recoiled with the motion, vexed by the touch. "Wake up. Bane is hurt. He's _dying._ _Get. Up._"

Fatigue unlike any I had experienced since childhood kept me at a slow pace of arousal, but I managed to sit up, finally out of the veil of sleep. I looked around, the space around me unfamiliar. "Where…" I started, only to have the information click in my head. I was in the twins' cell, hidden away from where anyone would know. The thrum of the riot from earlier had already died, and evening was in full swing. The fever of earlier events made my heart race. "Where is Bane? Where is Melisande? Talia?" I turned and stared both of the brothers down.

"Talia went over the edge of the Pit. She is gone," Barsad informed me, smiling sadly. "That is the only good news, I am afraid."

The more steady of the two of them moved to sit next to me, eyes vivid with their saddened emotions. "Melisande was raped and killed," Aliash said, taking over for his brother. "It was not kind nor quick, either… They took their time and when they were finished, they tossed her corpse at Bane's feet. Bane…" I watched both brothers pale and avert their eyes.

"Bane _what_?" I snarled, snatching the larger brother by the chin and forcing him to look at me. "Say the truth and spare me no detail. Bane what?"

Aliash gazed at me, disconsolate pools of fawn and emerald shimmering with regret. "They brutalised him, sister. Viven and Ayham are working on him, but it does not look good. They… They destroyed his face and mutilated his back, _knowing_ it would cripple him more. Sister, I don't think he will live."

The cell was too small. The walls were too close. Everything felt weighted. I let my hand fall away from Aliash's face, limp in the lumpy folds of the mattress. It was only the afterthought that made me realize he had called me sister, and not brother. Upon looking down at myself I realized exactly _how_ he'd figured that out. My robes were barely more than a tattered shawl about my shoulders. The indigo hood was no better off, barely a scrap of fabric around my throat. "Well, I guess the secret is out," I chuckled, the harrowing thought barely a fragment of the emotions I fought to control regarding…

Regarding…

_Bane._

Only once before was I so compelled to let my emotions overrule me, and Ra's berated me for that one moment each time I even hinted at letting it happen again. What else could I do but explode with dread? What good could come of just sitting here, doing nothing? Not a fucking thing. _Stop. _The voice of reason reared its head. _Stop before you forget everything I taught you, child. Find your center and plant your feet. Your ally will not live any longer by you hurrying to your own grave._

_Master, I can't keep doing this. Help me truly or help yourself to the metaphysical door because I have a friend who needs my help._ "Find me a robe and a hood, please," I instructed Barsad, shedding the riddled shards of cloth that hadn't been taken in the attack. "I need to go to him." He got up and rummaged through a small pile of items under his own bed while I stood up and stretched. "How did I end up in here?" I asked Aliash, pulling one arm over my head and limbering up from the adrenaline fatigue of a few hours previous.

Barsad held out a garb of similar make to my old rags and sat back in his bed, eying both his brother and I. "The prison knows your secret," he pointed out, nodding in my direction. Without looking I could tell he meant my breasts and slightly more feminine curves. "No one touched you, though…"

"We got to you before the men attacking Bane could take advantage of the situation," Aliash interjected, "but you did get stepped on before we could get you free. That would explain any pain you have." Both brothers looked to each other then and hung their heads, crestfallen. "We're sorry for not being of more use, sister," Aliash began, running his hands through his hair in distress.

Barsad mimicked his brother's upset, scratching at one of his stubbled cheeks nervously. "You saved us both, gave us a home, and you risked your life for us. You both did. We failed you."

"Oh hush," I drawled, shouldering into the scratchy robes and wrapping the hood fully around my face. Using the spare cloth from my old attire I wrapped my feet and hands as best as possible, further concealing the color of my bruised skin. "I didn't help you out so you would be in my debt, and I don't expect that you did the same for me just now. I'm going to see Bane. I may be gone a few days from our cell, so I need you two to take care of the plants. Take my key," I reached into the folds of my chest undergarments and held out the warm, rusted metal of the key to Aliash. "I _will _be back."

* * *

_He was drifting with his eyes closed, swaying slow with a current of waves as he reclined on his back. The sensation was calming, a therapeutic rocking that made him just want to fade into the background. "Bane," he heard faintly, the voice belonging to his cellmate. "Bane, wake up. We have to go. Something is wrong here." He tried to sit up, but the warm liquid around him clinging to him and forcing him to stay in place. _I am not so easily subdued,_ he thought to himself, struggling against the confining water around him._

Not so calming now, eh,_ his instincts laughed mockingly. "Bane!" she yelled into his ear, shaking him, pulling some of the fibers away from his flesh. _Yes! More! Get me out of this! _She held onto the straps of his brace and trembled, whether from adrenaline or fear he could not make out clearly. "Bane, c'mon. There's something going on." He fought again and again, but his muscles would not listen. _Damn it!_ The black of his closed lids started to turn red as his pulse increased and his calm dwindled. He had to get free of this, somehow._

_"Bane!" she repeated, dancing on his nerves. "Get up, damn it! Get up! You're not allowed to do this, Bane! You're not allowed!" Her touch was biting as she hit his cheeks and pinched at his exposed arms. _You would not do that if I could move,_ he complained darkly, still fighting tooth and nail against the feeling of paralysis. He felt the pull of the liquid around him slough off his skin and then his other senses swept in, filling his mind with a cacophony of information. His ally was resting against his right side, screaming with all the anger he felt, out at something or someone he could not hear. "Fuck you! You want me to pick? Fine! Here I am! I'm picking!"_

_Her body heat disappeared from his chest and he heard the screech of an all-too-familiar foe. _I will not go down without a fight,_ he vowed, willing himself to his feet. He opened his eyes and saw exactly how big his adversary had gotten. To his left was his cellmate, shaking from what he imagined as fatigue, but still tireless in her efforts to defend herself (and, though he would not admit it, him as well). She looked over at him, an expression of awe lighting up her cheeks. "Wipe that look of your face," Bane jabbed, a half-smirk tugging at his lips._

_Ahead of them both rose an inky black giant. The creature was so large that for a moment he could not tell what it was. And then the wings came away from its body and he understood the enormity of his enemy. As he turned to give his friend instructions on how to help him fight, he watched a man garbed in a gray suit with a wispy goatee drag her away by the neck. Bane spun and loped after her, not a second thought against it, but she was already too far. _Why is it always like this?

_He yelled after her and she reached out for him, but both their efforts were in vain. The smack of wings beating against his skin drew his attention away from his ally, who was lost at this point. "You will not get the best of me!" he declared, throwing up his guard and attempting to block the blows of the acutely fine edge of the bat's wings. It was no use. Just like his other nightmares, the beast dwarfed him in stature and strength and it forced him to step back every few seconds, closer to the open mouth of the Pit, which blended into the deep of the unoccupied space around him._

_And then it happened._

_Somewhere along the border of life and death, he stepped wrong._

_Agony. Searing hot and sharp as a freshly honed blade, razor tipped terror dug into the length of his spine. He touched the haze of cottony film that kept him in the throes of the battle with the demon, but it remained elusive to his attempts to wake. Who _was_ he? Fumbling through the dim of unconsciousness he could still hear bits of the real world swimming around him, but it didn't bring forth any indication of his name. He had just heard it, too! Someone… Someone he knew had said it. Screamed it. Cursed it. But now, his own identity was lost against the battering of the creature before him._

_"Deshi deshi, basara basara," thrummed against the limber confines of his half-sleep. In a sea of voices it reverberated around him, slowly increasing like a tide. The words touched on familiarity, but in the depths of sleep paralysis and his metaphysical battle, he could not recall what they meant. Murmurs of urgent tone rippled around him underneath the current of shouts, and he decided to focus on them. As he listened he kept on his attempts to push the demon back, but still he was forced to retreat, centimeter by painful centimeter._

_"He will not make it if we do not fix the wounds now," a raspy voice drilled out in Moroccon-Arabic. How was it he could understand _that_ but not the chanting? The uproar of words made little sense in the haze of half-unconscious thought and the meaning escaped him for the second time. Dully he could feel something hot and slicing at the nape of his neck, putting a halt to all other thoughts. His mind whirled into wakefulness angrily and darted through the dodgy surface of sleep to rend a scream from his lips. He was with Vinen, who had a ragged knife mid-stroke to his face, flaying the tender flesh away from his gnarled cheekbone and nose._

_The pitch black of pain-induced sleep enveloped him as quickly as it had spat him out, and everything ceased to exist for what felt like eternity. Even the monster of his nightmares fled under the weight of the pain. The last tangible thought in his mind whispered, "My name is Bane."_


End file.
